The future daunts me.
It is relentlessly mocking me, taunting me.
Counting down to questions I have no answers for.
It is a constant clock.

Tick tock.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
Tick tock.
"You have to choose something practical."
Tick tock.
"What are you going to major in?"
Tick tock.
"What are your plans after college?"
Tick tock.
"You should know what you want to be by now."
Tick tock.
Stop the clock.

Let me get off before the hand hits 12.
Let me get off before my yearning for adventure gets waved away.
Let me get off before the world turns my dreams into foolish wishes.
Let me get off.