My Obscurities

26 going on 27.  Baby, I’m on the brink.  I rub my face with deep treating wrinkle cream and spot targeting wrinkle cream (both by Garnier).  I am prepared.  I am age defying in high definition.  Does it matter?  In a word: yes.

It’s a blessing to grow older but that doesn’t mean I cannot start preparing for the onslaught of Mariana face trenches.

I’m golden.  I’m growing as long as the days.  Feeling the weight of years on my shoulders, my face, my hardened interpretation of the world.  The economy cannot afford to pay me for growing up middle class going on lower class.  Baby, we’re on the brink.

Alas, I cannot control what the government says is good for me but I can take steps to control my best face forward.

It’s hard trying to manage in a country that can no longer offer its citizens a piece of the dream.  I notice this fact every single day.  Driving down the road and noticing that gas stations have closed for reasons undisclosed (there are 3 on the same parkway that have ceased operation indefinitely),  tuition increases, school loans brooding in a corner in my mind, and the indelible fact that I am 26 going on 27 during all the chaos.  How exciting.  Baby, we’re on the brink.  

So, I endeavor to  attack wrinkles and age spots and other stalwart signs of increasing years.  I love it.  

My head hurts and so does this post.

Currently sitting on and spinning:  Me, I’m Not - NiN