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The Darkness of Middle Age

Lately, as I have been going to sleep, I suddenly feel overwhelmed by the darkness. I feel myself walking down a long carpark ramp into a black, lonely cavern, where I can’t see the edges, only a little bit of light along the path.

And part of me feels shocked that this is what I would see as I go off to sleep. Usually, my mind would be filled with more positive things . . . images from throughout the day, pieces of music on replay, and if I am lucky, thoughts of women.

But peering into a darkness that I have no control over, this is perhaps something that I have made for myself, the bed that I have to lie in.

This could be the darkness of early middle age. Of seeing that I am now half way along a path – and not all of it is fantastic. Significant mistakes that I have made still move as ripples into the future, shaping an outlook of pessimism. I am becoming something – a man; but there are also all these other dynamics at play; a darkness, a mind rife with fears, unpleasantness and unhappiness.

So it is strange to walk into a black cavern not of my own choosing, and not know where I am going.


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