Wrinkles enter the empty chat
I look in a mirror much often and longer than usual. My hair is getting thinner, the balding among men is widespread, isn't it? First wrinkles adorn my forehead. Here and there moles and other points appear. The last days hit me with a sad realisation I won't get any younger again. How things were different in teen ages! With each new season my body was getting sharper, stronger and better. I really had a naïve thought I could shake the world! Now I have to keep a steady diet to stay relatively shaped. I shave clean to take away several years as any attempt to grow bristle makes me look like a rogue. I remind the image of the protagonist from 'The fight club' even though I don't really like the plot.
My mirror shows me again that man supposed to be myself. Eyes that spark no joy but tiredness; harsh mouth; slight disappointment in my posture. I get older, this is a natural thought on the eve of my 30. What freaks me more is understanding how quickly the life goes, how merciless the clock ticks away my prime time. Sure thing, I can work out, eat healthy and avoid stress (this last advice is hilarious as it's impossible in this world). But still these are supporting methods, not gaining ones. One can say many people don't even have the privilege to get old and pass away too early. And sure thing have the golden pass to senior ages is better. It's just.. I'm getting scared.
I don't miss people from former chapters by now. It's that I want to live new ones authentically. I would like to be both the protagonist (as I am now) and(!) the author of this novel. Why this hustle culture? This is all so stupid. I just want to have a simple job, even boring one. The main thing is that I don't pay with my sanity.
Not only I restored Instagram I tried to show up in Vlad's feed by changing the theme of our ever empty chat. As far as I know IG sends a notification for this little nothing. He did see as the system reported. And still he didn't write. We changed like on our posts, but never chatted. I give up and let him go. Direct messaging isn't my option. Knowing his (info outdated) character he must have considered it as a sign of my weakness: 'You must be really lonely if you come back after eight years of missing. Yep, I followed you first. But I did it purely out of curiosity, ascara'.
Ginger tea stopped making me feel good. And this damned frost doesn't go away. Am I grumpy like an old fart or this is just my nervous system requiring peace? I'd like to drop the city and move to a smaller one. But nobody needs my services back there. So here I stay, my unbeloved homecity. I remind a Ukrainian song with similar meaning: 'I come back from work and drop stressed out. Why do you act with me like this, you know, I love you, Kyiv' I'm not Ukrainian but the song losing all its charm in my translation resonates with me. Why do you act like this, N?