Saying Good Morning and Goodnight: My Life in 10 Years

By: Addison Bell 

You always give advice, but you never follow it. You don’t know why this is but it bothers you. In ten years, you will finally learn to listen to yourself. It will help tremendously. You will be a better person because of it.

In ten years, you still won’t know what you want to do with your life. You will probably be broke, unable to pay off your student loans. This is okay. You will have had several jobs, many of them involving waiting on people. You hated these jobs, mostly because people can be stupid and mean, but you’ll be thankful because it gave you good writing material. You published your memoir, you’re still not satisfied with it.  You know it helped people and you hope you saved someone’s life. This is all you what ever wanted to do. You still write, you still think you’re a horrible at it.  You’re running out of ideas, but this is okay.

It’s okay because you found someone who means the world to you. You had some pretty rotten relationships and you cried over many people.   Then you met him and everything became better. Things became less grey. You became less grey. You’ve learned to appreciate saying “goodnight” and “good morning” to someone everyday. You no longer eat dinner by yourself. You no longer need to have conversations with yourself, because you have someone to talk to you. You never thought it was possible that someone would understand you, but he does. Sometimes you don’t even need to talk, because he knows what you’re thinking.  You know what he’s thinking.

Sometimes you fight and sometimes you both cry. Sometimes you think it’s all wrong, but you can’t imagine your life without him. You can’t imagine yourself without him. Fights end up with kissing, and the kissing leads to sex. You have his body memorized: every birthmark, scar, wrinkle. You always tried thinking of where the best place in the world would be; you’ve discovered that it’s his arms.

You still get sad.  You’ve probably done stupid, horrible things to yourself. When you were 22, you thought you’d never be truly happy. Sometimes you still think this, but you’ve stopped having these grand notions of happiness and what it means to be happy. You realize that happiness is different for everyone and that it’s a waste of time to pity yourself. This brings you comfort and solace.

He doesn’t say anything to you when you are sad, because he knows that nothing needs to be said. He knows that you only want to be held tightly and for him to whisper, “I love you, Addy,” into your ear. This makes you feel like the luckiest person alive. One time you couldn’t get out of bed and he left and came back with a pet pig. You named him Frankfurt. Frankfurt sleeps at the foot of your bed. You both take him for walks and people stare at you. This makes both of you laugh. You’ve come to appreciate the beauty of laughter.

This is your life in ten years. You live in a small apartment in some city with the love of your life and a pet pig. You’re still confused, but you’re finally content with what you have. You’re doing what you love to do and this makes you happy. He makes you happy. It makes you happy that you have someone’s hand to hold when you go to bed every night. It makes you happy that you have finally learned to love yourself.  This is more than enough.

Addison Bell is a senior at DePaul University where he is studying English Literature. He is the President of Oxfam DePaul and volunteers with Oxfam America, an organization dedicated to ending world hunger, poverty, and social injustice. Follow him on Twitter @boy_1904 and on Tumblr: colourmegreenwich.tumblr.com.

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