Matthew Gold in 25 Years
Me in 25 years? I dunno, hairdresser? Make-up artist? C’mon Mrs. Bishop, you have to do better than that. Can you name one kid in this class who knows what they’re going to do after college? Can you name anyone who knows what they’re going to do in college?
I don’t even know if I’m going.
I’ll be 38, going on 39. What do you want me to say, I’m gonna have a wife, kids? I don’t know if I’m even going to drive. Maybe I’ll live in California and ride my bike everywhere or maybe I’ll live in the mountains in Tibet, I don’t know, but you wanna hear what I do know? This paper is bogus.
I don’t have to tell you where I’m going to be in 25 years, because I don’t have to know. I don’t have to have every little detail mapped out. I’ll probably still be friends with Heidi, she’ll always need me, but otherwise I think I like a little bit of mystery. In 25 years, I’m not going to know who I’m going to be at 64. My life is in flux; I inhale, I exhale, I change. In 25 years, that’ll be the one thing that stays the same.