I don’t want to be that person 

  
7am the alarm goes off. I don’t want to be that person. Crisp cold November morning, reach over and switch off the alarm with an ache in the arm. I don’t want to be that person. Draw back the covers and get the legs out of the bed, fumble around the floor for the slippers. I don’t want to be that person. Get up out of bed rubbing the puffy swollen eyes. I don’t want to be that person. Walk down the stairway, 1 step, 2 step, 10 in total, an ache with each step. I don’t want to be that person. Get to the bottom and see the post at the door, bend over slowly and pick them up. I don’t want to be that person. Walk to the kitchen and turn on the heating on at 40 degrees to be turned off in 2 hours. I don’t want to be that person. Open the post and see the new free bus pass has arrived. I don’t want to be that person. Walk to the bathroom, pick up the tooth brush the teeth. I don’t want to be that person. Look up to the mirror and see a wrinkly 79 year old face staring back, thinking life has gone by in a flash. I’ve become that person. 

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