As I sat on my stoop to breathe toxic air, I thought about the way I see myself. He wears plaid, has a mustache and people think he is ten years older than his still ripe stage of 26. The bags under my eyes don't help. Now before you begin in on me for my superficiality, I have no body issues.
I do see myself as an old man when I look at my face. I don't feel bad about this, physically. I feel bad about this because I don't know if I deserve to have my face have so much character. It looks leathery, but white, a transparent hue. My wrinkles have not faded even with those special creams. The purple under my eyes smiles at me whenever I try to get some sleep. Maybe that's what it is. I have never really slept well. Could those extra hours have already turned into years? Maybe experience doesn't have to have lived on a boat for two years, or been in a car crash that had flipped three times.
I was awake and alive for more hours in a day than an average human who averages eight hours of sleep per night. Think about it, while asleep the only thing you contribute is the air you give to plants. You may be inspired by dreams but you can't doing anything until those eight hours are up. This thought actually upsets me, because all the time in the past while trying to fall asleep I did nothing. I guess, mainly I expanded my knowledge and indulged in various different art forms. I will make a resolution. From now on I will try to contribute to life instead of tossing and turning.
On another note, I am quite happy with how far I can flick cigarettes.