Aging

 Have I really aged so much that I can no longer hold onto my convictions as steadfast as I used to?

That anyone could come by and falter my thoughts I held once so dear? Does age make you experience the virulent, the harsher forms of reality that are difficult to digest, yet you become so used to, they become part of your daily life?

Does age do away with all motivation that you had to achieve all your outlandish goals? Or does it make you realize, that in good time it is right to do away with the thought of getting any close to them? Does age make you stop breaking the norms, and get you down to following the herd? Does your ambition to outdo yourself die with age?

Does age stifle all hope and reason, and deliver each day as it comes, no pretenses, nothing to look forward to, nothing to remember and reminisce.

Does reality only mean that your existence is about breathing that foul air that you breathe, live a soulless existence, drained away by the many other soulless beings you encounter each day?

Does age dry away all your tears, empty your heart of all emotion, take away the mirth that once adorned your face, leaving behind an empty specter, a puppet, in the hands of the many puppeteers?

Age does away belief, in all existence of miracles and phenomena, and demands nonexistent proof.

They say time mellows your way of thinking, the people you meet during your lifetime are the catalysts to the change in you, and you begin to see things clearer and more rationally.

The reality is, age takes away your will to dream the implausible, the impossible, and does away with the impetus, the courage to make it a reality.