Flashback 80's

I entered memory lane with the "classical" hits of the decade of my birth. Through them I feel time passing by, 3 and a half decades of existence, less than 13 thousand days. Suddenly it feels such a little time, but for my human condition it means I am approaching the midlife of my possible death age... so I feel as old as the changes that took place in this world during this time. No white hair or wrinkles, but I feel more "adult" than ever. Music bounds me to time. How many days have I got left, and what should I do with them? A part of me worries, while a deeper aspect sits observant and confident, pretty sure of what I really want. Should I be trying to escape my own dreams, just because they can't come true? I remember a talk I had last year with a random Jon Doe who was pushing me for a date that I denied. I said we shouldn't try because I could tell it wouldn't work, because I already knew what I was looking for and he was not him. So he said that the man I wanted most likely didn't exist and I'd wait my whole life alone for someone who would never come. Now I know he was right, because when a man is precisely as I hoped for, he lacks the essential witch is to dream of me too. Here I come, old age. Here I come, solitude. What can I do, if human emptiness and animalism are worst prospects than absolute lonliness to me...