624 months

I’ve completed my 52nd year of life and am embarking on the 53rd.

It seems completely unreal, abstract. It’s a statement of fact that illustrates the difference between intellectually knowing something and that same something being a reality in your own mind. The image I have of myself isn’t older than 30. Maybe all those years I spent trying to pickle and preserve my brain paid off.

In my teens I was convinced I was going to die at 27. I can’t remember why, but I was. It wasn’t depressing, it was more a matter of fact. Ever since the day I turned 28 I’ve been shocked each year I’m still alive. That’s about the same time I became a former theist. Maybe god told me I was going to die at 27 and when he was wrong, I lost my faith. Who knows. Either way, I’m glad it happened.

Turning 53 sucks. You’re too young yet for senior discounts but too old for everything else.