The older I get the less I care for the fanfare. If I don’t get the amount of texts I once did in my younger days, I don’t fall into a slump. Somewhere between 37 and today I stopped caring. Each year, the amount I care grows less. It’s not to say I have lost interest in my friends or the idea of existing, my priorities have shifted to other things. Like existing, surviving to an old age. Facebook likes and comments from my high school classmates won’t keep the blood pumping through my heart. I don’t have Facebook to even try to care about how many people check who’s birthday it is and run to their page to wish them another great year.
I don’t know if this is on par for my age or if I’m just getting crankier at an excelled speed. The amount I don’t care about the daily hassles of other peoples lives is not lost on me. I suppose I’ve never cared for the mindless chatter over coffee conversations that seem to fill other people with joy. Life has always meant more to me than wasting it on mind numbing idle chatter. I went through the social media phase where I needed to feel validated, and it was like a drug. I wanted to get more and more people to like and comment on my status updates, which I thought were deep and full of mystery, I know now they weren’t. They were trash, like most of the stuff put on the internet these days. Now it’s just a cesspool of anti vaxxers and maga’s. Why anyone would want to be a part of that is lost on me.
My younger self wouldn’t recognize who the older me is, I think thats normal. It wouldn’t be cute being a bar fly at 42, at 22 I was I huge supporter of the local bar scene. Always befriending the bartenders in hopes of strong drinks. The idea of going to bed when I do now made me cringe back then. I’d never be okay with it. I didn’t leave my apartment till 11, then after party till the birds chirped. I was a night creature. I’d sleep till noon or later. Now, if I sleep past 8 I feel the day is wasted. My priorities have changed. The things I once found important, being a social butterfly, being an active member of social media, being a part of a community that didn’t really care about my well being is gone. Running from the constable because I wrote too many bad checks is in the rearview.
I don’t regret the choices I’ve made. I was slow to grow up. I saw the people around me settling down, having kids. It didn’t deter me. I did, for awhile, feel maybe I should do the same, I found a boyfriend and hated it. I don’t like the feeling of being attached to someone. Maybe someday I’ll be okay with it. Sometimes I feel like a Jimmy Buffet song, but most of the time I feel okay with the choices I’ve made. When I look around, I can’t imagine doing everything I’ve done, the choices I’ve made, having to explain them to someone and I don’t have to. I hold my self accountable. Sometimes I fuck up, and I allow it. I’ve learned to go easy on myself with age. I’m not perfect and I no longer aim to be.