Wearing the inside out?

Aside from being a great cut off Pink Floyd's The Division Bell, it really summarizes what life in the 4th decade of my existence has become. All the pretenses. Needing to be cool needing to fit in; needing validation of my choices; needing the party to go to, they've all gone away. Although I am wondering if this is at the cost of feeling relevant. I don't know if I have ever been happier. I look around and all I see are memories of things I have done. Even if I didn't enjoy them then at the moment, the pictures bring a different kind of comfort. I have survived, my bliss has survived. Why can't people be happier? Why was I born wired to be happy? This smile is my sailboat. My silver sun pickup that takes me to an eternal sunset. I have struggled recently with what being an adult means and the definition of a grownup. I don't do dumb shit. I don't do risky shit. I'm okay with that. All I have to do is read back in this blog to see that I have lived, danced, and caroused my way into some luscious scenes.
This all seems so complicated now. Life, and what I mean to others. That I mean something to others is a novel idea. Avi gave me a hug tonight. Why? Grateful I guess. The same way I was grateful to my Dad. Like the way I knew that we are spinning on a rock hurtling through an incomprehensible vast space, yet he was always able to make sure there was milk in the fridge. He was my rock, and now I guess I am his.

"Ticking away the moments that make up the dull day, you fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way" "The time has come, the song is over...thought I had something more to say" - Time, Pink Floyd

The first and last lines of this classic song are compelling. They combine a constant awareness of life with a cognizance of the inabilty to contextualize its limitations. We don't know when we are going to die, we just know that there is always something else waiting to be done. This is not a call to arms, or an exhortation to seize the day. I'm just at this point in life where I am content with the pacing, the people, and the problems. Everything is manageable and I feel like this is the sweet spot. How long does this last? How long have I been in this good place?
What does it mean, wearing the inside out? It's that I'm finally okay with showing the real me. There is no hiding, no worries about being judged because it doesn't mean anything to me. That hug. It all comes down to that hug. It was as much a reassurance to him that I am real and here, as it was a show of gratitude. So, yeah, not much to say. But it's better to put out something here where it all started. Where I first became aware that the printed word has peace, love, and passion, all wrapped into a melange of contorted thoughts. So I share this, because sharing is caring. Love ya, miss ya. rg