When I see those wilting wrinkles poke through worn skin, I feel dread seeping through unstained brown.
Warm toothless smiles, those aged empty eyes, muffled ears... Something about it repulses me.

To grow old is to rot while you still live, to feel your beautiful body fail you, organs shutting down, one, by one, till it stops.

(You are nothing more than a burden when you are old, and you will be treated as such.
They will not cry when you die because they've expected it, waited for it.)

I'm scared.
I am scared of growing old.
I don't wanna die.

I want to be immortal, I want to be young forever, I just want my childhood back.
I can't have that
I will compromise.

I don't(?) wanna die.
I am scared of growing old.
I'm scared.

(You only have worth when you are young and beautiful, that is when people pretend to love you.
They will cry when you die, because, oh, you were just a child!)

To die young will be bliss, to never know what it is like to see your body atrophy, organs slowly sleeping, calm, quiet, till it stops.

When I see youth slipping away by seconds through my soul, I feel terror tearing at every crevice of my heart.
Hunched backs, those fading memories, weary voices...
No.

I refuse to rot.
© Hyde