An Old Age

October 22, 2007
By Jessica Gregorek, Highlands Ranch, CO

In deap sleep I quickly learn that the worst part of my story is my old age, whne I am standing in a crowded room, and all my old friends from my graduated class are there with me, but they dont recognize me or they have forgotten my name. Two have passed, and a few are sick. My best friend doesn't remember much about me, and my first love has kids of their own now. And their kids think I'm strange.

I am pretendin gthat they care about me. I try to pretend that they know who I am. I look at the back of a once good friendm and imagine him walking over to me, and stating my name. Then we begin to talk. Not about much, but ketching up all the same. But the truth is, he doesnt care, he hasnt moved, and all I see is the back of his now bolding head.

Mom didnt tell me it was going to be this way, She didnt tell me know one would care, but I guess I should have known. Thats when I wish nust to wake up at a young age again. And when I do, I am shoked. But happy all the same. And niow I live life to the fullest. If at least, thats what I am in for.

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