I’d be always alone, limited by my concept of love,
And I’ll end up childless or adopting late in life
as I focus on my life and become consumed by my job,
which I should be good at.
I’d want a big house to compensate for loneliness.
Apartment hunting (or forced to stay at my parents’).
With a malnourished yard and a pet craving for attention.
And I would tell others I am happy.
I’d get take-out food or starve myself.
And always alone, I’d stare at my plate.
I’d constantly visit others for food.
Food would be a surplus, but my heart would be empty.
I’d have a car, money, and a child.
Life would be satisfactory.
I’d force a smile on my face.
And it would be okay.
Because of everything I’d have.
Because of friends and family.
Because everyone can dream.