I thought I would die young.
I thought something would happen at 40 and I’d just be crushed.
So I never dreamed of owning a home or building a life.
I only dreamed of living in the present and wandering through life with complete abandon.
I’ve always seen myself that way.
A free spirit.
A trapped soul, even.
I have felt like I don’t belong for so long that I stopped caring.
I would just skip down the halls anyways.
I rejoiced in my oddity.
But then I met a boy one day who didn’t think this way.
He didn’t see his time as finite and that was new for me.
It kind of sparked a curiosity in me.
Will I live longer than 40, I asked myself?
Should I consider owning a home?
If I live that long, what do I actually want out of this life?
And these thoughts kept following me like hungry children in Target asking for popcorn.
I couldn’t shake them.
Until one day, I realized, why continue trying to shake them?
Why don’t I feed them the god damn popcorn?
So I gave them a little.
And the thoughts relaxed.
But not only did they relax, they opened up to me.
They started whispering, what if you’ll actually be happy living longer?
What if commitment is not that scary?
What if you’ll be okay staying?
And that’s something I never had considered before.
What if, I whispered again, I’ll be okay staying.
What would that look like?