Often times I have this insane, absurd, and swift inner monologue in my head. It's normal I suppose. Though sometimes I want to go Darren Aronofsky on my head (see the film Pi for reference). Lately, this little Cheney on my shoulder has been telling me that I've lost "it." You know that little factor that makes people think, "Does he workout?" or "Is he in the cinema?" I can only refer to "it", as what my good friends Kat and Nigel call the "wow factor." That is to say it is the unexplainable for the illiterate and optionally handicapped.
I have felt that as I grow older my humor has been diluted by time, my shape has grown with experience, and my hair has disappeared like old acquaintances. And I am reduced to ridiculous similes. So this is why I mourn. I am the designated mourner of my personality. I am the mourner of "it."