I can’t stop thinking – I will never be as young as I am right now, at this very moment.
My mind sometimes wanders, but it snaps back like a too-tight rubber band, reminding me.
It’s not lost on me, the irony of every youngest moment spent perseverating upon itself, like a gluttonous snake, eating its own tail.
In those wandering moments, I often worry rot will sneak up on me like my neighbor’s silently stalking cat, taking a monster-sized bite out of the little I have worked so hard to have.
Then, I snap back, as usual.
In a moment of clarity amid the perpetual vacillating, I realize – there is no rubber band, no snake, no cat, no monster.
There’s only me, whose thoughts are not young, not in any moment in time.
They are the rot.