The good old times never last forever.
Eventually, they end because they have to.
Same as the night has dawn and daytime has sunset, the times we are able to live wild and carefree are limited to a certain age.
And after that age, our frenzies are limited to weekend spurts, or small get-togethers and reunions.
As time passes, the old jokes seem to fade. But we still laugh because we still understand them. Only now, the laughs are distant because we are distant from who we once were.
Our crowds change; our friends change, and all that remains are pictures, of say, us in our perpetually young state.
All that’s left are scattered memories, which alter with age, and usually end with someone saying, “I can’t believe we got away with that.”
We lived as fast as we could and stayed crazy to the best of our ability. We laughed at our downfalls because there was always that thing called, “Tomorrow,” and we were enough to depend on that.
But at some point, I reached the bottom of the bag, and there were no more tomorrows left. Tomorrow became today and I had to pay the balance of every yesterday I left behind.
I always said, “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Except, tomorrow charges more interest than any bank, or credit card, and its terms are always pay on demand.
However, the system is always willing to make a deal.
And yes, I had to sign on the dotted line, Yes, I had to lose in order to win.
Nothing was given to me—I had to work for what I have, just like the rest of the world.
Here I am, and I am fine with that.
Here I am, and my yesterdays are mostly paid for.
And there you are…..
Your yesterdays are adding up, and you’re still looking for someone else to bail you out.
There you are. Still talking.
Still laughing at the same old jokes.
You still hang around the younger ones because they believe you.
Either that, or their youthful ignorance is a perfect match for your lack of ambition….
The Written Addiction 