More and more my mind gets blocked the older I get, as if a thick fog has settled over my memories, shrouding the once vivid moments of my life in a hazy blur. It's a cruel fate for someone who once had a razor-sharp mind, someone who prided themselves on their intelligence and wit. Now, I find myself struggling to recall the simplest of things – names of loved ones, cherished experiences, and even my own past.
As the days pass, I cling desperately to fragments of my former self, hoping to grasp onto anything that might bring back the person I used to be. But the harder I try to hold onto those memories, the more they seem to slip through my fingers like grains of sand. It's a heart-wrenching journey, watching my own identity erode before my eyes.
Every time I am slower, less intelligent, less creative...; my inceldom has destroyed my mind. And age each time makes me understand that even the things that I enjoyed the most They will no longer be enjoyable drinks because my mind no longer gives of itself. No video games, no chess, no driving...
It is over.
As the days pass, I cling desperately to fragments of my former self, hoping to grasp onto anything that might bring back the person I used to be. But the harder I try to hold onto those memories, the more they seem to slip through my fingers like grains of sand. It's a heart-wrenching journey, watching my own identity erode before my eyes.
Every time I am slower, less intelligent, less creative...; my inceldom has destroyed my mind. And age each time makes me understand that even the things that I enjoyed the most They will no longer be enjoyable drinks because my mind no longer gives of itself. No video games, no chess, no driving...
It is over.
