Why am I here?

Oh is that life? I was with my Dad when he met an old friend. The old friend couldnt recognise my dad. Presumably of his greying crown and shrunken physique. They had become friends half a century ago. Those good old days. I could sense the longing in their eyes and from their words. The longing for the good old times. The longing for youth, for hope and for surprises. When you have 50 years ahead, you could just treat the next day as a surprise. Each fall as an experience. Each success as a step closer to the summit that seems always shrouded in the clouds. And I began to wonder . I wonder where would I be. 50 more years. Would that day come just like tomorrow would come? Will I realise it just like every morning when my alarm rings and I know another day has began. The night has passed, passed without my knowing. The next day is SIMPLY here. No, I mean today is simply here. So will I feel the same way when 50 years have gone, I just look back and quietly acknowledge the irreversibly? Will the music that I enjoy today, the same music that accompanies me as I pass each day, the music that triggers memories of the days tagged with it, will the music sound the same? Will I be cluttered with so much music that none would have any meaning? I guess not. I am sure unforgettable days or moments just keep building up. Just get stored in my head. and i am falling asleep