2077

It is now the year 2077. I have aged from a young whipper snapper to an old woman. I have seen many changes within my life- I have lived through the change of the millennium. However I fear that I shall not live to the change of the century. I find that waking up in the mornings and walking to the bathroom with my walker is too much of an effort. It takes me twenty minutes to shuffle towards my kitchen. I am decaying: slowly- painfully. It is one early morning when I wake up from bed and I find it hard to breath. As I lay there I take my last few breaths- I wished that I went to church more often. I close my eyes and find… That hell no I’m not done here yet. Like really- me dying at only 85? Common, I’m stronger than that.
I find that once I hit 85 I’ll be enjoying my life the way I do now. I will be able to skip to my kitchen and eat whatever I feel like. The fear of cholesterol? Oh please. Like I will really need to worry. I plan on living past age 85, and I plan to live for another 33 years. I plan on seeing the turn of the century. I plan on being one of the oldest people on earth.
I expect to be playing with my grand children when I’m 85 and if things down downhill with the husband- well, I’ll be dating some fresh young men of 70. That’s right world- I’m here to stay.