Five Year Plan (Explicit)

So— where do you see yourself in five years?

...Alive, hopefully?

Is that not enough?

They handed me a spreadsheet when I turned eighteen,

said"fill this out or you don't get the dream."

Five year plan, ten year goal,

monetize your passion, sell your soul

in quarterly installments, call it"growth,"

call it"vision," sign the oath.

They said"where do you see yourself?"—

I said"here. Right now. On this shelf

between 'not enough' and 'too much at once,'

between 'you're wasting time' and 'be patient, don't rush.'"

Pick a lane, pick a brand, pick a five year window—

but the window keeps shrinking and the lane's built on stilts

and the brand is a costume I bought with my guilt

and the plan was a cage that I built for myself.

And the funniest part?

The ones who sold the map—

they're lost too.

They just charge admission for the confidence act.

FUCK YOUR FIVE YEAR PLAN—

I'M BUSY BEING HERE.

FUCK YOUR FINISH LINE—

I'M BUSY LEARNING HOW TO STEER.

YOU WANT A DESTINATION?

I WANT A DIRECTION THAT CAN CHANGE—

DOORS LEAD TO DOORS,

AND PLANS LEAD TO CHAINS.

FUCK YOUR FIVE YEAR PLAN—

I DON'T OWE YOU A TRAJECTORY.

THE THREAD DON'T RUN ON SCHEDULE—

IT RUNS ON WHAT'S IN FRONT OF ME.

I watched my dad make plans at seventeen—

"gonna be a comedian, gonna live the dream."

Then I showed up, and the plan got shredded,

and you know what he did? He just— adapted.

Taught me accents, taught me timing,

taught me life don't care about your lining—

silver or otherwise— it just arrives

and the only move is: improvise.

They want a resume for being human,

want a thesis for your tears,

want you to justify your Tuesday

with a PowerPoint about your fears.

But Baron never had a five year plan—

he had a bowl, a window, and a man

who sang in Russian for no reason—

seventeen years. No plan. No season

he wasn't ready for.

"If you fail to plan, you plan to—"

...you plan to what? Live?

Respond to what's actually happening

instead of what you predicted three years ago

from a completely different version of yourself?

Here's my five year plan:

I don't have one.

I have a thread.

And it pulls.

And I follow.

And every time I tried to plan ahead of it—

I missed the door that was right in front of me.

FUCK YOUR FIVE YEAR PLAN—

I'M BUSY BEING HERE.

FUCK YOUR FINISH LINE—

I'M BUSY LEARNING HOW TO STEER.

YOU WANT MY ROADMAP?

IT'S A PULSE, NOT A PAGE—

DOORS LEAD TO DOORS,

AND PLANS LEAD TO CAGES.

FUCK YOUR FIVE YEAR PLAN—

I'M NOT BEHIND, I'M NOT AHEAD.

I'M EXACTLY WHERE THE THREAD NEEDS ME—

ALIVE AND UNDERFED

ON CERTAINTY— OVERFED

ON WONDER— AND I'D TAKE THAT BET

OVER YOUR PROJECTIONS

EVERY TIME. NO REGRET.

You wanna know my plan?

Show up.

Pay attention.

Follow the pull.

Be kind— with teeth.

And when someone asks where I see myself in five years...

...I'll tell them they need to start thinking about their ten year plan...