Growing Old-er and Lovin'

I suppose as you grow older things start mattering to you less.  I guess this is how adults manage to become adults.  Or maybe more important things start to matter so the trivial things get brushed aside.  I know I'm not super old or anything but I'm beginning to understand that I just don't care anymore about many things and that it's OK not to care.  To avoid sounding pretentious and dumb, I won't specify what I mean by "things" but I will say that I have trimmed some unnecessary, overgrown hedges and I'd like to think that I'm becoming a better person for it.  Caring less has allowed me to look forward keeping me away from the nostalgic swivels that occur at the most inconvenient times.  I'm realizing that love is becoming something that is more necessary than before and I'm giving in to the idea that being dependent and asking for help is OK.  Sometimes it gets difficult to hope for things to get better but having someone to listen to you and actively empathizing with you makes it easier.  Loving someone is something that does require a lot of effort but when you need somathat lovin' back you know that it was effort well invested.  I'm not talking about dirty lovin' but just sweet, honest, thoughtful, compassionate caring that happens when you guys both agree after an argument that "we're not mad at each other anymore."  Also comfort is taking precedence as well.  I'm realizing that I really enjoy being comfortable.  Not that I'm afraid of the unknown nor am I lacking in the adventure department, but I enjoy finding comfort in feeling a sense of familiarity and some sort of consistency.  Forget crazy spastic spontaneity man.  I like going to Mario's because I know the Lomo Saltado is going to be money every time.

I'm no longer as invincible as I once thought I was but actually the complete opposite.  Lately I've been plagued with unmentionable problems with my body which has made me realize that I'm incredibly fragile and in need of an enema.  Maybe it's because I've been on this dreadfully crippling medication for the past two months but I'm sore everywhere.  There was once a time I used to look forward to being sore the next morning because that was an indicator that I got a good workout.  Now I wake up wondering what the hell is going on with my body.  I feel that these should be the complaints of someone twice my age but I figure now is a good time to start so by the time I'm 50 I'd be really good at complaining.

I'm not sure if I need help or if this is growing older but I know that as long as I have someone who loves me whom I can complain to, it will be OK.  Because love should be like Lomo Saltado.