Honestly, if I see myself at all in 20 years, it'll be a miracle. If it's not the suit wearing creeper, it could be that I finally kill myself in a teleporting accident. Or maybe I'll read the memories off of some particularly nasty piece of work and go insane. Or maybe I'll get hit by a car when I forget to look both ways. Who knows?
It sure would have been awesome to have "Precognition" on my list of Shit I Can Do, wouldn't it?
I'll probably be living it up on a tropical island somewhere. I'll only drink my drinks out of a fruit (pineapples and coconuts, please!). I'll never wear shoes again. I'll lay in the sun until I look like a leather wallet. I'll probably never get rid of the sand in those hard-to-reach places.
The idea of having kids is a nice one, but I don't want to burden a wife, or a child, with the problems I have. And, to be honest, I'm pretty selfish. I don't know if that'll change, but I do know that it makes me a pretty shitty superhero. "Not now, bitch, I'm trying to finish this episode of Doctor Who", I'll say as I shut my window against the sound of someone screaming in the night.
Well maybe I'm not THAT selfish. But pretty damn close.
I'm not motivated enough to move up the corporate ladder. I don't have a lot of ambition in life, except to make it to the end. Maybe, in 20 years, I'll meet my Suited Stalker, and we'll have margaritas instead of a brawl.
(Mini-serial I wrote on storylane.com. This is a followup to the story 'Real Life Slenderman')