In a light blue datapad with no identifying features (save for a few strange, crimson-and-purple flecks), there lies a series of entries secreted there by some anonymous writer. It doesn't seem fair. I hate to start this on such a sombre note, but it's true-- youth is wasted on the young. I've wasted so much time doing what I ought, I never even tried to think about whether I was doing what I should. It isn't fair. Already, I can see shades of gray. Crepey skin. The dullness creeping into my eyes. There must be a way. I just need a little more time.
The doctor tells me he can help, but all he offers is the same as every other-- more creams. More injections. More acids designed to strip the life out of my flesh. None of them last for more than a few days. By the time I've healed, I can already see them wearing off. Of course, he won't let me go back. "It's too much," he says, "You're fine. You don't need it." He's lying to me. I've seen the pictures of his family. Of his young wife. What does he care about some old woman? He can afford to turn me away; he knows I'll be back to give him more money, take more of his useless panaceas for age. "You can't handle any more," he tells me. I know what I can handle. He's only telling me this to make me wait. To make more lines creep into my skin. He wants to rob me of the only way I have of preventing the damage, so I have to spend more, and more, and more every time I see him. Does his greed know no bounds? I refuse to suffer for it.
A super antioxidant, they say. Slow the signs of aging! Reverse the aging process! I've spent ages perfecting a means of harvesting resveratrol from red grapes. I've sought out the varieties that promised to have the highest concentrations. I've dry-farmed them. I've grown them on the sides of mountains so cold, their sap froze in their stems. I have done everything I could to concentrate as much resveratrol as possible, and it still isn't enough. I could drink gallons of it a day, and it wouldn't feel like enough. I noticed a difference at first, of course. It seems the longer I consume it, the less effective it becomes. Will nothing ever be enough?
Gel-like sap, skin irritant. Produces localized redness, inflammation. Aqueous extract acts as a muscle relaxant. While the properties of both herbs are too strong, in the right concentration they may yield useful results. I prepared a serial dilution of each one alone, then a combination of the two, and supplied them intravenously to six test specimens. The results are inconclusive (though I did lose one to a possible anaphylactic reaction). At least they seem safe enough for internal use at a sufficiently low concentration. I'm hoping that turquine, used locally, will yield similar (but less hazardous) results as a preparation of botulinum toxin. he says i can't have any more injections but I'll Show Him i'll show him
