In ten years, I'll be twenty-five.
That's pretty much the only thing I know for certain about 2021.
Of course, I want to have graduated a good college, have a nice, steady job and a supportive, adoring boyfriend and go down the suburban soccer mom route, with the three kids and the nice house and the minivan. I want to have an autumn wedding with blue bridesmaids' dresses and a great DJ and go on an exotic honeymoon to a tropical island or some cultured European country.
I want all of that, I really do.
Do I believe all of this is going to happen in the next ten years, exactly how and when I want it to?
Not at all. Life doesn't work like that.
Honestly, I don't really know where I want to be in ten years. I want to be loved. I want to be healthy. I want to be happy.
I'm sorry to disapoint anyone looking for, specificity, Eebs. Specificity (Arthur, from the brilliant and practically life-changing movie Inception) but I don't know where I want to be, because I want to be where life takes me--and I cannot predict that.
So, in ten years, it will be 2021. I will be twenty-five, and maybe I will be married with the three kids and the minivan, and maybe I won't. Who knows?
You won't have three kids by 25 I hope!
ReplyDeleteAnd Inception was brilliant. I long to watch it again, in one sitting instead of in three parts like I did during my 20th Century Physics class.