I dwell a lot on my age because, dear reader, I do not expect to make it to 60, maybe not even 55. I have what they call "bad genes" - my dad and grandfather (on my mother's side) both died at 52 of strokes, so I have it pretty much hard wired into my mind that I'm on borrowed time. In fact, one of the reasons I work out so much is because I am actively trying to avoid that fate (the other reason - not looking awful naked in case anyone was interested seems to be pointless considering there is a pandemic going on, I am not meeting anyone, and was not dating much (or having sex) before it started).
Anyway, you would think having an expiration date like this would make me embrace life, but the reality is that as I have aged, my world has shrunk. Again, even before the pandemic, I rarely went out anywhere other than the gym and the library, I have no social life, and zero self-esteem. So, while part of me envisions a lengthy retirement in Arizona, photographing mesas, bike riding, and driving around in a convertible, the more likely outcome is I die sometime before 2025 and decompose for a few days before anyone realizes I am dead.
Follow me on Twitter - @scarylawyerguy
I really hope you’re okay. The pandemic has been hard on everything, but I can only imagine more so when you live alone (as in no other humans). Being active certainly helps improve mood and is good for physical health. You don’t have to be resigned to the same fate. Keep it up, and I hope things get better. Hugs.
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