LONG ASS HIATUS

Word count: 6,537↳Requestedby: Jojo

Aominehas always had the habit of overthinking – not in the sense that heuses his brain for the things that he probably should – buthe often finds himself lost to a myriad of memories when he leastexpects it. Especially now, in his old age, he can’t help but callupon the images and impressions of his youth. There are times thatleave him smiling at their startling clarity, while others bringtears to the thinning lines of his lashes, rendering him vulnerablefrom the surfacing nostalgia that leaves him weak in his arthriticknees.

Sometimeshe finds himself flicking through the channels of his flat-screen,but he finds that he’s more interested in resurfacing old memoriesnowadays, because listening to the news reporter declare domesticterrorism and the name of a new disease (that he can’t begin topronounce) which produces symptoms with no current physiological oranatomical cause to be found, is much less interesting than recallinghis past.

Hethinks it’s funny, how he’s grown to be so sentimental. He blames iton his current state and the knowledge that he won’t ever be able tomove the way that he used to. In fact, he hasn’t in years now. Hecan’t remember the last time he played basketball, but it feels likeforever, which breeds an ache of disappointment that lances throughhis heart because he knows that there’s no chance of recovery at thisstage in his life. And it may hurt now, but years ago it damn nearkilled him. Though, he supposes he’s just come to terms with thingsand finally accepted the lack of mobility that comes with aging. Hisphysical condition is still remarkably good for his age, but he canfeel how much his body has broken down with time. He knows he’sreaching the inevitable, can feel it in the way his heart beats andthe way he has to breathe a bit harder than he used to, but theweight of reality doesn’t feel so suffocating, as it once did.

Hespends most of his days on the couch or in his favorite chair by thewindow, if the constant protest in his knees allows it, because thedistance to the resplendent glass is a journey with damaged jointsand the eroded cartilage caused by his arthritis. Not to mention theache in his hips, bruised by his constant state of imbalance. Buttoday he’s braved the distance and settled in against the weight ofthe worn chair he denied disposal of despite its bedraggled state. Hehas a book in his hands, but he still doesn’t find much time to read,save for the old dusty gravure magazines that he once read forpleasure. He admittedly lacks the stamina of his younger years,though not entirely impotent, he finds enjoyment in other areasnow—which was truly the most startling revelation in his eyes givenhow sexually involved he was prior to becoming a senior.