Member-only story
In a few hours, I’ll be turning a year older.
I’ll hit 37.
And to put it straight, perhaps I am slowly but surely turning into that grouchy old fart.
Oh, I am not that smelly fart who grumbles and complains about everything though.
I am not even that fart who seems to hate everything in life.
You see, I’ve come to think that us farts are simply cringing with insecurities. In the mix are our deepest desires too.
I cringe the fuck out of almost anything that steals my lonesomeness.
As super introverted introvert who has gained self-awareness many years ago, I’ve embraced this lonesomeness to a fault.
I cringe when I see photos of friends on social media, gathering happily as they indulge in pleasantries and catching up.
I cringe when I am on TikTok (deleted since), watching people partake in trends just for views and likes.
I cringe when I get invited to weddings or whatever festivities.
