The Future We Create

A drawing room covered in windows facing the grey sky, bated breath as we wait for the sun to rise in watercolors of rose and gold.

Walls covered in splatters of paint and crooked photographs, old newspaper headlines and rough drafts of novels scrawled in black and red ink.

A bay window with faded cushions worn down from hours spent curled up together with books and catnaps and daydreams.

Antique shelves harboring knickknacks and old books bought for pennies from flea markets held over lazy summer days.

A chocolate lab with over-sized paws dozing in the doorway, tail thumping over the mismatched rugs disguising creaky wooden boards.

Steam from two chipped mugs of black coffee rising to the ceiling, waking up sleepy mouths with bitter grounds and shared grins.

The faint strumming of a guitar to old country music, rattling an outdated radio from the corner of the slanted bookshelf.

A cigarette dangling between crooked fingers as smoke tangles around the room in an endless haze of grey, a smoky high that settles into bones and rests within the lungs.

Create the future. Make it your own. And remember it.

Remember what you wanted once, on your worst day, in that darkest moment before the light. Take what you wanted, that end-of-the-line, no-way-out desperation, and throw it out. As far as you can, just launch that sucker into the stratosphere.

And instead, remember what the future is going to be like. Trillions upon billions upon millions of opportunities, the endless string theory of universes where you are always happy, where you are always where you want to be.

Today is not the end. Today is tomorrow is the next day and the day after that and before you know it, you won’t remember wanting today to end. I promise.

Hang onto daydreams, little moments, spaces in time where the bad does not exist and the good is all there is.

Hang on.



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