Old

I look in the mirror and I don’t see the 35 year-old that my inner self believes itself to be.

My neck looks wrinkled; my eyes tired; my belly has a paunch.

Is it the end of my “anything is possible” self?

It’s hard to know. But it feels like it. And, frankly, that depresses me.

I’ve never known this self.

It’s the most longstanding feeling of being uncomfortable I’ve ever had. It runs with a bottomless cold undertow.