10 years after graduation, no one can even find me, to ask if I'm going to go.

I sure as fuck won't. There's a strange morbid curiosity of seeing how bad everyone turned out, but at the expense of having to be there to talk to them.

Not my kind of circus.

Nope.

Too much of my past life I'd rather leave behind me.

Give it 5-8 years. Everyone will be divorced single parents looking "for love" because "their first marriage didn't work out".

The women will be dishing out morsels of over-stretched vagina in exchange, looking for someone to help raise their kids and provide steady income because they don't want to work, or someone to be an emotional-tampon.

The men will be sacks of chronic depression, hanging out at bars for a quick lay. Fuming over child support garnishing their checks, and not being able to see their kids that weekend, if ever.

Then the two classifications will end up with each other but someone different, juxtaposed. Like swapping used tires around onto other broken down cars.

The men taking care of someone else's kids, the women living mediocre stay-at-home lives.

Oh and me? Where do I fit in to that story? I don't.

I don't. Not because I'm some sort of successful millionaire, but because I have self respect and control. I'll Go to sleep in my own bed in my own house. Getting plenty of rest to wake up and go work or even take the week off, because I have minimal financial responsibilities.

The people listed above will be jealous and have only shame language to throw at me. Ironically attempting to tell me how lonely I am- subconsciously mirrored by themselves demonstrating that their "partner" fills them with a certain regret of their own life. A mixture of what-if's and resentments. A prison called "misery loves company".

Indifferent, I will come home, make some tea, and sit down in my armchair. At this time will it be known that the characterization of what I am feeling is not loneliness, but freedom.