Rage, rage against the dying of the light

I have to stop feeling old. It's getting in the way of my youth. I should be out and about, enjoying a wild night with the best people. I should not be getting enough sleep because of a night's worth of shenanigans. I should have been collecting acquaintances which will be good friends in time. 

But instead I am here. I am here but my mind is already sleeping. I am already imagining myself in bed. I am already downloading the new episode of Cougar Town. I am already ordering food for one. I am already saying no to friends who are in the mood to drink and be merry. I am an old person lacking social skills.

I told myself I'll go out the next weekend when I'm not feeling tired anymore. I always am saying that but it's not working so far. I even convinced my friends that I will go out and drink with them but I never do. I told myself it's time for a stupid decision but it won't ever let me.

I am feeling older with each weekend that I have let myself waste. I have to stop wasting weekends. I have to let myself be young.


Do not go gentle into that good night

by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, 
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

From The Poems of Dylan Thomas