An old fart

In my bed I sleep, and behind my I eyes I dream. Some of my dreams are blissful; some of them are dark. I woke this morning in a foggy haze; I could not remember my dreams. It takes time for my dreams to sink into my mind. I wake slowly trying to get back to my slumber. Today my dreams were sweet like the taste of fresh honey. They were filled with hope, love and youth. When I wake I desperately try to go back to sleep with no avail. The desperation comes from the realization that I am still me. In my dreams I can be whoever I want to be; do, whatever I want to do. When I wake I am confined by the limitations of my body. It’s hard to dream when I am awake; the pain of this world rests on my shoulders. My fears usher their way into my thoughts and cripple me. That’s why I struggle to fall back into the dream state, where my fears can’t reach me.

Everything hurts, all of my moving parts, every last one. The body doesn’t respond like it used to; I have to beg my legs every morning. “Please don’t give out on me today.” Every day is a struggle when your an old fart. When you get old and your body falls apart, it’s harder to mend. They say every day is a gift; I’m starting to doubt that now. Maybe death won’t be so bad; maybe I’ll get to leave this prison of flesh and bones. Maybe I’ll feel free like I feel in my dreams, free.

I look outside the window of my little room, the strangers pass by my window. They never look up. They don’t want to be where I am, they don’t want to feel what I feel. Life is bitter sweet in an old fart’s home. The strangers act as if they have all the time in the world, but they don’t. The clock ticks just as fast for me as it does for them. As I walk across the room to get dressed my body cracks and moans. It sounds like an old house, one that’s been neglected. The one positive thing I have left in my life is that I can hold my bladder and my bowel movements. A lot of men my age can’t, they have to wear diapers and sleep on bedpans. I guess that’s my one last accomplishment. “Thanks god, for what it’s worth, I owe you one.”

People come in this place, with the understanding that it will be their last home. It’s like we know this is it. Here we die; this is where we come to die. Most of us don’t want to be here, but we are a burden on the outside world. Our families are growing; they're moving in the opposite direction. They don’t care to see how this life ends. It ends just as it began, with confusion and isolation.