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age 28, will be 29 this year, I've been replaced by children and teenagers, I don't matter anymore, it's like time goes on, the clock still ticks after you're dead, I feel dead, my emotions numb, no friends, nothing to look forward in life, I call these years the depression years, kids now go to the same school I used to go to in elementary and junior high and high school, they walk the same hallways, the walk the school like they own the place, like they are going to live forever, I walked those hallways, I was in those schools, I spent more time in those schools, I existed before they did, now it's like I never did existed, I'm not in the yearbook and didn't go to the graduation, I wish I was in the yearbook at least, these kids will be replaced by new kids, a harsh reality of life that is scary to me
 

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Where were you replaced?
 

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You mean MobiusX replaced ShinAkuma :).

I used to be really sad about recalling and reliving moments when I used to walk the halls of elementary, JHigh, and HS, and University, and it haunted me all the way to early 30s.

I don't know if it's bills or just getting tired of commercialization and bland adult life, but I stopped reminiscing at roughly 33-34 partly because there is a turning point where you feel there's no use over-thinking too much about your past but just to leave it back.
 

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Everyone gets replaced.

It doesn't matter who you are, what you're doing, or what you've done... You will be forgotten, no one will care about you anymore, and eventually, you will die (not necessarily in that order). For some, it may take longer than others, but we all share the same fate. This is not unique to people in your (our) situation.
 

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On a vaguely related note, my work place has been bringing in a fresh batch of kids over the years. My time is numbered, and I'm done for. No country left for crusty old dudes and quiet endangered creatures when they keep on bangng out kids.

Time to look for musuem curator jobs to tell visitors about some stupid obscure painting or ancient reptile or woolly elephants.
 

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Sounds to me like your asking 'Whats the meaning of life?', I think no one has an answer to that.
I read this post the other day, kinnda puts things in perspective. For me at least. ~

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meagre possessions, They found this poem.
And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem.

Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see?
What are you thinking .. . when you're looking at me?
A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food .. . ... . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . .'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . .. . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not . . . ... lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking?. .Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse .you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am . . . . .. As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, .. . . . as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten . .with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . ..my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows .. .. .that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . .. . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me . . to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, .. ...Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future ... . . . . I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing .. . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . And the love that I've known.
I'm now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.
It's jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigour, depart.
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . A young man still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . . . . .. . I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . . . . . life over again.
I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .. . . . .. . . open and see.
Not a cranky old man .
Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. .... . ME!!
 

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Time to look for musuem curator jobs to tell visitors about some stupid obscure painting or ancient reptile or woolly elephants.
Hey, nothing wrong with being a museum curator :p

;)

I mean i aspire to be just that, and at least it will pay the bills.
 

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On a vaguely related note, my work place has been bringing in a fresh batch of kids over the years. My time is numbered, and I'm done for. No country left for crusty old dudes and quiet endangered creatures when they keep on bangng out kids.

Time to look for musuem curator jobs to tell visitors about some stupid obscure painting or ancient reptile or woolly elephants.
Or time to start your own business?
 

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age 28, will be 29 this year, I've been replaced by children and teenagers, I don't matter anymore, it's like time goes on, the clock still ticks after you're dead, I feel dead, my emotions numb, no friends, nothing to look forward in life, I call these years the depression years, kids now go to the same school I used to go to in elementary and junior high and high school, they walk the same hallways, the walk the school like they own the place, like they are going to live forever, I walked those hallways, I was in those schools, I spent more time in those schools, I existed before they did, now it's like I never did existed, I'm not in the yearbook and didn't go to the graduation, I wish I was in the yearbook at least, these kids will be replaced by new kids, a harsh reality of life that is scary to me
There was a TED talk the proposed an interesting idea. Medicine keeps making discoveries that extend life. But the rate of innovation tends to increase such that it's quite possible that someone your age will never die.

As it is now, you will probably live to be 100. But in the next 70 years advances will be discovered such that you may live well beyond 100.
 

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Sounds to me like your asking 'Whats the meaning of life?', I think no one has an answer to that.
I read this post the other day, kinnda puts things in perspective. For me at least. ~

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meagre possessions, They found this poem.
And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem.

Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see?
What are you thinking .. . when you're looking at me?
A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food .. . ... . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . .'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . .. . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not . . . ... lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking?. .Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse .you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am . . . . .. As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, .. . . . as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten . .with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . ..my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows .. .. .that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . .. . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me . . to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, .. ...Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future ... . . . . I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing .. . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . And the love that I've known.
I'm now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.
It's jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigour, depart.
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . A young man still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . . . . .. . I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . . . . . life over again.
I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .. . . . .. . . open and see.
Not a cranky old man .
Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. .... . ME!!
Thank you for posting this poem, pianist. It is so beautiful. Gave me chills. :cry
 

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age 28, will be 29 this year, I've been replaced by children and teenagers, I don't matter anymore, it's like time goes on, the clock still ticks after you're dead, I feel dead, my emotions numb, no friends, nothing to look forward in life, I call these years the depression years, kids now go to the same school I used to go to in elementary and junior high and high school, they walk the same hallways, the walk the school like they own the place, like they are going to live forever, I walked those hallways, I was in those schools, I spent more time in those schools, I existed before they did, now it's like I never did existed, I'm not in the yearbook and didn't go to the graduation, I wish I was in the yearbook at least, these kids will be replaced by new kids, a harsh reality of life that is scary to me
At 35, I get slapped in the head by this feeling spontaneously and at random. I'm glad you brought it up because I've been feeling it lately and not quite understanding it. In the past (and when I had a group of friends) I'd go places and feel like part of them. Now when I go to those places, I feel like an outsider. I can spot the new, 2013 version of my 2002 self there, fitting in the way I used to, talking to the type of woman I'd talk to, with the kind of friends I'd have. It's hard to have a good time when those sorts of thoughts creep in. Whatever the environment, whether it's my alma mater, the bar or the bookstore, I suddenly feel like an interloper in someone else's world.

Re: The yearbook--I wasn't in the one for my college, and I regret the hell out of that. I get the same feeling there that you do around your high school--that I never mattered, and maybe was never there at all. :um.
 

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Time to look for musuem curator jobs to tell visitors about some stupid obscure painting or ancient reptile or woolly elephants.
:lol Woolly elephants! Now I want to go to a museum.

I feel the same way, OP. I don't really see a place for myself in this world, and I was always on the outside somehow anyway. But now it's like I can't even imagine a future for myself. I watched a movie, Side Effects, last night and they said depression was the inability to see a future for yourself, and that hit me pretty hard cause that's exactly how I feel...I'm surprised to hear others feel this way, too.
 

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We are all here for a limited time. The way to not feel regret is to move on and find value in the moment; the new situation.
 
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