I don’t believe in the future. I’ve spent almost all my life knowing that I’ll never make it there. That one day I’ll finally get the courage to end the time line. I know that no one will miss me anyway. I see all these people who tolerate my existence. After a week they’ll forget I ever existed. I see me parents. Their tense marriage. I’m the reason that tension is there. I ruined their lives with my presence. They would take a month then realize how much money their saving and maybe even fall back in love. They’ll be fine. My old class mates would perhaps like and comment on a face book post about how tragic my inevitable fate was but, that would be all. I know that the world will keep turning without me yet I’ve never pictured the world turning with me still here. I still can’t see a future past this year. I’ve never considered it a possibility. I don’t know what I’m doing because I never thought I’d make it this far. I fear the future that I never planned for more than the oblivion I’ve been avoiding. Maybe tomorrow I’ll finally be courageous enough to end it. If not. Maybe the next day or a month from now because I don’t believe in the future or rather I don’t believe in my future.