Sometimes I wonder how I would be with out my fiance. When I get caught in that thought and can’t pull myself out, I get this whole life that comes streaming past, shoving its way into my mind. Paralyzing it.
I picture myself, a kooky spinster with a dog, a tiny brown terrier I named Tiny “T”. I still wouldn’t have that many friends as I would probably be ten times more socially awkward than I am now. Don’t even think about my filter, which would be nonexistent, since I wouldn’t care about trying. My hair would probably be very dark with some ridiculously obnoxious streaked through it that I would change multiple times a year.
I would send Christmas cards to family signed “Tiny T and Me”. I would eventually get a cat because I wouldn’t want Tiny to get lonely and depending on the gender the name would either be Ginger (female) or Peabody (male). The Cat would be old and slightly overweight and would have been a rescue. Ginger (or Peabody) wouldn’t like Tiny at first but they would eventually grow to love each other.
I would live in a studio apartment in an unknown location, it would be messy with too many clothes, not enough furniture, a modest T.V. and a huge sound system with a record player. Vinyls would line my bookcases, some for collection, most for actually listening. I would watch the Oscars and Grammys, T.V. shows like Elementary and BBC Sherlock.
I would drink coffee with too much sugar and creamer in a stupid coffee mug that had a ridiculous image of a dog or cat. If it didn’t have an image it would most likely have a saying that read “Instant human, just add coffee” or “Weapon of Mass Addiction”.
My clothes would never be in style and people would just think I was some quirky, awkward lonely girl (they would be right of course) I would not get married and end up being the crazy aunt that gives the best Christmas presents.
I would never get the hang of cooking for one and would throw away tons of leftovers or give them away. The loneliness would eat at me but I would soldier on splurging on Peabody (Or Ginger) and Tiny T. When they died I would mourn them with soul wrenching sobs and for years to come will debate whether to try another dog or cat. This always depends on how lonely I feel and if I am able to not let it consume me. I won’t have kids and will try to adopt but will get denied because I’m single and slightly crazy.
I will end up developing some sort of disease that is terminal and I’ll cry and get angry and frustrated but will eventually accept my fate by keeping it a secret. I will create several bucket lists that I will never do, and will die alone in bed surrounded by no one. My landlord will discover my body when he notices I did not pay my rent. My obituary would be small and concise and people would mourn me and state that I died too young. Maybe some will reevaluate their lives.
People would forget about me and I’ll fade out of history.
Or maybe I’ll marry Will Arnett and be ridiculously happy with our witty selves and our funny little kids,