The Future You Avoided
Someone wearing your face is waiting in your kitchen. They’re ten years older, and they came to show you what “later” really costs.
One normal morning you wake up to someone sitting at your kitchen table wearing your face.
Only ten years older
On the table is a list of everything you keep promising yourself you will start
Every line has a date beside it.
None of them say today.
They slide the list toward you.
“You should see what never happened”
Every date marks something you almost did.
A call you kept postponing.
An idea you were too afraid to start.
A place you swore you would see when life finally calmed down.
Older You looks at you.
“This is what later looks like after ten years.”
Older You reaches the door.
“One last thing.”
“I’m not your future.”
“I’m the future you get by never choosing one.”
You blink.
The chair is empty.
The list is still on the table.
Beneath ten years of excuses, there is one blank line:
Start today.
Before life chooses the deadline for you.