What happens in four years? Everything happens.

You fall in love. You break up. You hate. You cry. You scream. You fight. You think you’ll die. You think you’ll wake up. You wake up. You drink a lot. You smoke a lot. You make friends. You lose friends. You make something beyond friends that is still just friends. You lose those people too. People leave. Everyone leaves. You stay. You travel. You travel a lot. You get on airplanes like some people try on new clothes. You swim in beaches with white sand and crystal blue water. You hike mountains covered in the greenest green. You ride trains across borders. You take boats through the waters. You ride elephants and feel guilty. You refuse to ride camels. You meet people. You fuck people. You have lots of sex. You do some drugs. You grow up. You act immature. You get an apartment. You buy random shit like pots and pans. You buy sheets. You buy a drying rack. You buy art to hang on your walls. You let strangers sleep on your couch. You’re so God damn high all the time and time begins passing like a blur. You love everyone. You love your friends. You love these travelers in your apartment. You love France. The air feels so different. You dance. You party all night. You go home with strangers. You go home with friends. You want everyone to sleep in your bed. You want everyone to always be there. You want everyone to always stay. You talk about buying that old house and letting all your friends live there. You plan to take care of everyone. You plan to pay for everything. You plan to be rich enough. You talk about your novel. You talk about your dreams. You’re going to live in Dubai. You’ll own a yacht. You miss South America. You have a real experience in Sri Lanka. You watch planes fly away with people you love. You cry alone at night when people die. You talk about moving back to a place where things are simpler. You talk about going further east. You don’t go anywhere. You start to see Istanbul’s Sabiha Gökçen Airport as your personal Purgatory. You interview celebrities. You sleep with celebrities. You interview influencers. You get invited to parties where the people you interviewed are also invited. You eat 5-star meals for free. You drink expensive cocktails for free. You realize your life is perfect. You tell everyone that nobody possibly has a better life than you do, maybe as good, but not better. You’re the happiest person in the world. You’re the most confused person you know. You’re naive. You’re intelligent. You’re foolish. You’re indecisive. You’re independent. You’re so damn needy. You can’t stop. You can’t finish anything. You can’t move on. You can’t make decisions. You can’t survive in the real world. You’re so God damn broken. You have so many friends. Everyone loves you. You’re so happy. You find out that nobody is perfect. You discover that everyone will hurt you. You realize that even places can reject you. You realize you’ve been chasing happiness all these years. You realize you’ve been chasing a ghost. You haven’t changed. You haven’t gone anywhere. You’ve always been happy. You just didn’t understand what it meant. You’re so God damn privileged. You’re so God damn white. You hate Trump. You hate Clinton. You hate the media. You hate politics. You decide to build a cabin in the woods. You decide to always be alone. You realize you don’t need anyone. You just need yourself.

But you’re friends are calling. You ask them if they want to drink absinthe.

What happens in four years? Life happens.

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