Fears, by Liz Rosema 2015

 

You will never be anyone. 

You will never be anything. 

You will be who you are right now and never get better.

Someone else has done everything that you were fated for. 

What you were made to do has already been done by Tim. Yesterday. You just missed it sorry.

All the good art that there is to be made has been made and you have not made it. Art will continue, but emptily, like an explanation of a joke

You will be someone you do not like.
You will never have enough.

You will never have health insurance. 

You will have health insurance because you have given up on what you wanted. You will also have dental and a heart full of regrets. You will pour yourself a glass of whiskey in the middle class home you are paying off, it will taste like lost opportunity. 

Other people are better.

Somehow other people will have careers in things. You will not have careers in things. "Career" is a word that will slide off you and onto the ground, it will lie there limpid. 
You are not good at the thing.

You will stop loving people. It is easier not to. 

You will give up.

You will give up and start calling yourself a millennial. Once you do this, you will realize that it is true. That you somehow magically have a degree from a Liberal Arts College (which you do not regret) and your personality is not detail oriented. 

You will not write a book.