They say that you never realize how old you are until you look at the changes in the world around you. On that thought, let me just say: damn, I've gotten old.
Old doesn't even do what's happened to me justice though. In actual years, I'm ancient. Two hundred seventy-three to be exact, yet physically I look younger then I ever have. Ignoring the sleek metal and plastic augments that make up a lot of my body, what's left of me looks almost like a child. My coat is rich, unscarred, and silky with a pleasant gleam; my mane hasn't the slightest indication of fading or any grey hairs to be seen.
However, there are still signs that reflection is my own and not some doppelganger's. The silent, graceful stride, ears and eyes that swivel to absorb everything around, the subtle tension of a body ready to pounce at any time; my almost predatory air that so many commented on. And then their are my eyes; they say eyes are windows to the soul and mine show me for what I am. A cold, lost, beaten down, and worn out soldier.
I'm old but the world has aged so much more.