I’ve been noticing age and ageing lately, but not necessarily in myself (well, that, too).

The real deal here is looking at my dog (who has been in my family for 13 years now) and noticing how she’s going deaf, her weight has increased considerably and sleeps / likes lazying around most of the time. Her muzzle’s hairs are going gray and her legs tremble when she wants to make a jump.

I’m also noticing it on my father. He… well, he’s never been a healthy person (his anxieties and depression could eat him alive), but those infrequent “bad days” have turned into a normality. He is the best person I’ve met, yet these days ruin him. His mood-swings make it difficult being by his side, his bad temper makes it look like it’s just hopeless and his inability of getting out of the hole that has swallowed him is rage-inducing. I hate seeing him like this. There are certain days in which I think I hate him, but after a while, I realize I don’t, not truly. What I hate is age. What I hate is his illness. And yeah, probably the fact that he’s becoming a bit selfish, too (a side-effect of ageing?) I think I also hate worrying about him.

This leads me to the ultimate fact: I’m growing old. Okay, to be fair, I don’t remember a time I didn’t worry about my parents -I was a very grown-up kid. But realizing I’ll have to take care of them makes me uncomfortable. When did I stop playing with my dolls and signed for the adult life, full of responsibilities and concerns?

To make it worse, this September I’m starting my last year of University. I’ll be graduating in June (if things go alright!!) and I guess I won’t be able to say I’m not an adult anymore.



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