I find a way to support myself without going to an office or giving substantial time of my day. Maybe selling art, maybe writing again, maybe comics. I can’t tell what it is yet.
I find a small cabin like housing. Completely isolated from any roads or cities but not too far away from civilization. Far enough to be quiet. I drop all my vanity related items and move with things that help me thrive, create, and write. I install a dish for some wifi because I intend on keeping up with the world. Maybe start as a house sitter. But I see a small cabin like home, winding forest path and no humans anywhere to be seen. I write and create and walk around wearing nothing. Fun.
One day I decide to film what I do and I document everything that happens. All the hardship. All the strange thoughts that come with being lonely. I’m happy.
I grow old alone but somehow connected to millions of people. One day when I’m in my 90s I go for a walk and sit by the river and pass away there surrounded by nature and listening to the ducks splash.
I spend the next year working on my bad habits and shitty everything. I reach a stage where I’ve put in some work and created that stupid comic that I always wanted to make. In the meanwhile I’ve been doing proper research and become a phd candidate in Toronto. There I go to work for a few years and finally get that phd. With that piece of paper (and wasted youth) I finally do what I love to do. My dream job. Its a hard part but I create, maybe reach some fame for my research, sleep around till I fall in love and maybe marry.
I travel around a lot, my life is full of conflict solution and satisfaction. I’m surrounded by academic people and grow as a person. My life is complicated but I can be the vagabond I always wanted to be.
I give in to the pressures of life and decide to make myself marriage material. I spend 6 months becoming as attractive as I can and then take one of the men that my parents are trying to push on me. I marry, have mediocre sex, clean the house and entertain his boring friends. I push out a child or two, who I love, learn to love my husband. Have no real adult responsibilities and die full of regret an thoroughly lonely and ashamed for choosing the easy path. I become my mother.
The people that I’m surrounded by piss me off, their religion angers me, I probably hit my kids and they grow up with a depressed mother.