It's now my turn to be Old.
Not old, but Old.
I'm not with it anymore; I don't get The New Things; I've learned how and why my elders did The Things They Did; I bury the ideological every now and again- all without raging against the abyss.
For real this time, though. There's little of my youth to still fight for, because... well, anyone who wanted it is probably dead by now. Or, Old. Were I to offer it, it'd get stomped into the dirt ~7/10 times. No one has any use for it; it's to be scorned, shunned, danced on, and dropped on. It's not allowed to exist anymore, and it needs to get in the box already.
It's for me, and... well, probably just me.
General consensus is: no one really cares about all that jazz. And, that's okay. The world always turns. The day it does otherwise will certainly be something New.
Been a lot of the old-old rattling around in my skull, stitching itself together with the glue of wistful wisdom as of late, though.
Even that song hit me differently.
I am possessed- haunted by words I've known all along.
Translated, suddenly.
Irrefutable, inscrutable.
Horror and closure, all at the same time.
And from the onset, it's just some song that's totally not that deep.
Then it gets you.
It couldn't have been so deep; it slaps!
Oh, but it slapped.
And now I'm getting the message, 20 years later.
It'll happen to everyone, eventually, someday.
Probably.
It always whelms.
You can fight it, but you'll lose.
If you fight it, no one can stop you...
You'll just have to come out the other side, hopefully healed.
That's history.
C'mon, C'mon.