The Interview for the Life You Keep Avoiding
Future You is waiting across the desk. The only question is whether you will keep quitting before they get the chance to exist.
The interviewer looks exactly like you, only twenty years further into the life you keep saying you want.
They close your résumé.
“Potential is the least interesting thing about you.”
Then they slide one question across the desk: WHAT DID YOU DO WHEN NOBODY WAS WATCHING?
Future You opens the file.
The first page has your handwriting on it.
I WILL START WHEN I FEEL READY.
The next page is dated two years later.
Same sentence.
Then five years later.Same sentence again.
The lights above you flicker.The office walls begin filling with clocks.
None of them have hands.
Future You turns another page.
QUIT WHEN IT GOT EMBARRASSING.
WAITED FOR MOTIVATION.
CALLED FEAR “BAD TIMING”
You stop looking at the file.
“You keep telling yourself you need more confidence.”
“Confidence kept waiting for evidence.”
A second folder lands on the desk.It is much thinner.
PROOF YOU KEPT GOING.
There are only three pages inside.
Future You looks at you like something is dying.
“I cannot build a life out of promises you only keep when you feel inspired.”
Future You holds the stamp above the page.
“One last question.”
“What happens if I fail?”
“You fail.”
“What happens if I quit again?”
Future You goes completely still.
“Then I do not happen.”
Their face flickers.
For one second, the chair across from you is empty.
Veya enters carrying a black folder.
Inside are dozens of applications.
Every one has your name.Every one is stamped:
WITHDREW
“These were not failures,”
“These were futures you stopped showing up for”
The handless clocks begin ticking.
You finally understand the interview.
You were never being asked whether you deserved this life.
You were being asked whether you would keep choosing it when becoming it stopped feeling exciting.
Future You pushes the stamp toward you.
“Talent got you into this room.”
“What you do when nobody cares anymore decides whether I survive.”
Veya turns to the final page.
It is dated tomorrow.
Under STATUS, one word is already waiting for your signature:
WITHDREW