In three years, imagining what my life might be like feels like opening a door to an unknown path, one that could lead anywhere, yet is clouded in uncertainty. It’s hard to shake the feeling that fate has its own plans, and I’m just here, trying to brace myself for whatever comes next. Some days, I honestly hope that by then, I simply won’t be here anymore. It feels as though it would be easier to disappear quietly than to continue facing the mental battles that sometimes seem unending. I imagine a future where I might just sink further into depression, feeling more hollow and lost, like someone who’s failed at everything they once believed they could achieve. It’s a terrifying thought, to feel that sense of hopelessness growing, like a shadow I can’t outrun.
And yet, there’s another side to me that dares to hope for something brighter, even if it feels unrealistic most of the time. In that version of my life, three years from now, I’m living a life I’ve always dreamed of. I’m healthy, fit, and radiating confidence, a version of myself who has finally found her footing and embraced independence. I picture myself thriving, not just for my own sake but for the pride it would bring my parents. Maybe I’d have my own cozy home, a small place that feels truly mine, where every corner is a reflection of who I am and what I’ve worked so hard for. I’d savor every little joy, whether it’s a peaceful morning coffee, a walk through the neighborhood, or just the freedom of living life on my own terms.
But these dreams sometimes feel so distant, like they’re meant for someone else. In the quiet moments, I can’t help but think that all of this, the confidence, independence, pride, and joy, may never happen for me. I catch myself doubting that I could actually make those dreams come true, that life would allow me that happiness. I have fears, deep ones, of a future that I can’t even put into words here. It’s as if the thoughts themselves are too heavy, too frightening to say aloud, as though saying them would give them a power I can’t handle.
So, I stand here, balancing between these two visions, one dark, one hopeful, aware that both are possible yet unsure if either truly fits what my future holds. It’s hard to admit, but a part of me is genuinely afraid of what lies ahead, of what I might become, and of the battles I might have to face alone.
The Thought Box 
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