I visited myself 20 years from now, and I am surprised to say that I’m still alive, barely, but enough I guess.
I was sitting in a worn out strappy green and white lawn chair with a huge hat on and my perfectly red painted fingers lay spread out for all to see while my age spots glistened in the sun like mini sun catchers.
The grass under my feet was brown, but just in those two spots, the rest of the lawn looked green enough to be astroturf. And I just sat there and smiled slightly at the sight of the sprinkler getting the tacky pink yard flamingo wet, while its wings spiraled with the splashes of water.
And there was no laughter of little children heard in the background, not like in most visions of yourself you would see. But I didn’t seem saddened by this, I didn’t even seem to notice anything missing. I was too busy smiling at that damn flamingo.
J. Zarlenga
(via Swanksalot)