Morbid Me and My Mortality

I am going to die someday.  It's cool.  Worse however, is the fact that I shall age...and then perish.  There will come a time when my ears are larger than my face, wrinkles will be the only calling card of who I once was, repeating myself will be expected and ignored(even laughed at), and I will be alone in all of this misery.  Why are we given youth if only to have it stripped from our flesh and replaced with folds of a forgotten past and a sucky future.  At some point I will not be able to stand on one leg, remove my shoe and shimmy a rock embedded in the sole.  I won't be able to walk great distances without my family fearing a tumble or for death to find me there amongst the fall leaves.  Society will ignore me, and individuals will pity me.  Or worse, they'll say to themselves, "Look at that cute old lady trying to traverse that step up the sidewalk."  Ugh, worse than pity and death.  Our world holds youth and vitality in such esteem, I admit, I tend to get caught up in it all as well.  However, I don't think it's the way society perceives aging that bothers me as much as being useless does.  You begin your life in diapers and finish it making toilet paper pumpkins, of which, you are so very proud.  When will my time come that toilet paper pumpkins will be the highlight of my day?  How soon will the degradation of my body limit everything I hold dear?  Now that I am aware of time and its passing, my life will be over and the slow painstaking march to death that tragically takes place is all that will await me.  Waiting to be worm food and nothing more.  Doesn't seem fair to give us just a taste of beauty, lust, use, and energy, only to gradually siphon it all off the top so incrementally that one day you wake up and you're in a home with other death door candidates...waiting an endless wait of puzzles, 5pm suppers and sleep.  I hope I get hit by a bus on my eightieth birthday.