I have this fear you see, of dying a meaningless and unmemorable life. This fear that I will- like my family wants me to and is pushing me so hard to do- live a normal practical routine life. Where I'm a school teacher or an accountant or whatever, and I marry this guy whom I love but eventually the passion and flames die out and he grows a pot belly and starts balding, and I start wearing little to no makeup and get frumpier cause I just don't care anymore. And every day consists of working 9 to 5, coming home and making dinner for my family, then my child(ren) go play while I wash dishes and my husband watches TV, later we put our child(ren) to bed, then we watch some TV series we like, then we go to bed ourselves, and then we wake up the next morning and go to work 9 to 5 and EVERY DAY is the same fucking routine over and over again. And all of my life is looking forward to weekends, and looking forward to summers, and eventually I have no more weekends or summers or anything cause I'm six feet under pushing up daisies. My grave will read "Here lies Abby Hendricks, a loving wife and mother." And that's it. And maybe some people will walk past it every once in a while and wonder who I was, but nobody knows and nobody cares. Because I lived a meaningless and unmemorable life. My name will only be remembered by the handful of people that knew me, and eventually they die too, and with them so does the memory of me. And 50 or 100 years later, not a single person has any idea who the fuck this Abby Hendricks girl is. And nobody cares. Because I lived a meaningless and unmemorable life.Â