In twenty years, I will be 34. God, that’s hard to think about. It’s already hard to imagine I’ll be turning fifteen in less than a year, let alone 34. I only have my future planned up to college. In the next month, I’ll be playing a gig at a café. I’ll be going to high school, as soon as I get my letter of recommendation in.
I hope to get signed to a record deal in the next two years. I know, that sounds superficial and corny.
I want to go to college in New York for music. After college, I want to live in New York or San Francisco, to get out of the suffocating city I live in now. By that time, I’ll be 23. Hopefully I’ll have produced at least three albums, if I even got signed.
By 29, I want to be married, maybe with a kid. I’ll have a fashion line and be on Peoples’ 100 Most Beautiful list.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. First I have to finish the prompt.