I Am Not a Middle Aged Man

Slow down, son. Take a seat. I can see that you're upset.

The man takes a slow draw on his tea.

Now, why don't you tell me what this is all about?

I sit in silence.

No? Easier to talk when the cards are in your hands, isn't it?

It's a trap. Dumb bastard.

I was a lot like you when I was your age.

Bullshit.

I had dreams, I had goals. I had that desire to go, you know?

Of course I do, fucker.

And I ended up in a lot of bad places. Places I didn't want to be.

Here it comes.

I think that you think you know what makes you special. But have you considered that you're not?

Only the wisest have.

I thought I was special. Thought that I was like the guys in stories.

Haven't we all.

But the guys in those stories aren't real.

Bullshit.

They're text on paper. Lines spoken by actors. They're not people, you know?

It's too much. I speak up. Tell me then, sir, who is your hero?

I'm sorry?

Your hero. Everyone has one.

No, I understand. I was just asking if you were joking or not.

No jokes, sir. I don't have time for jokes.

Nobody comes to mind.

Hm. What a surprise. Do you mind if I tell you about one of mine?

Not at all.

This was a man who stood up in the face of everything placed before him. A man who questioned everything given him. A man who, on what would seem to us a whim, joined the monestary and devoted his life to a God he barely knew.

Martin Luther.

Have you ever met him?

Of course not.

Funny how we can only read his text on paper.

I don't understand your point.

Do you fear death?

Fear is a disease. It can be beaten. Overcome.

And you've done just that.

I'd like to think so.

Then you're already dead. Don't tread on me.

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