Older Looks Like Older

At what point do we start having a problem with not just getting older, but looking older? I mean, we all go through it. When we’re young, we can’t wait to get older. Five wants to be ten. Ten wants to be sixteen. Sixteen wants to be grown. And nobody at ten is like, “Oh my God, I look older.” Of course not. They should! Imagine being ten and still looking five. That would be fucked up!

I remember being sixteen and looking twelve. That wasn’t exactly ideal. I mean, I had to carry myself differently. People assumed things about me. I convinced myself, by the time I’m forty, I’ll probably look twenty-five or so. Somehow the universe brought that little teenage coping mechanism to life.

And now? Today I’m looking in the mirror thinking about this whole “looking older” thing. People say, “Oh my God, you look the same!” And while I may not say it outloud, I be thinning, “No. I do not.” I know exactly where I look older, and I’m okay with it. Because looking older is part of the deal. That’s what aging is. Not a malfunction. Not a curse. It’s a record of time, experience, choices, late nights, early mornings, fucked-up decisions, and great ones too.

I don’t feel old. I definitely don’t think I look old. But I am certain I look older. And that is fine. I mean, really, it’s the natural order. Five-year-olds look older than two. Sixteen-year-olds look older than twelve. Fifty-year-olds look older than most thirty year-olds, It’s not a mistake. It’s on purpose.

Maybe I’ll never feel or feel like I look old. Maybe even if I ever feel old, I may not think I look old. Hell, maybe a ten-year-old could look old, like damn, that kid’s already been through some shit. Maybe looking old isn’t about the number at all. Maybe it’s just what life leaves on you.

And honestly? I’m okay with it. No choice, really.