Look man, lots of things will happen.
At 21, you’ll watch Steve Jobs commencement address to Stanford University graduates. He will say, “You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future.” At 26, you’ll get the first indication of what those words really mean.
You will have a disagreement with a colleague. You’ll call her a dictator. She’ll call you an attention seeker. You’ll exchange words that taste like bile. She’ll send you a text that says, “Delete my number and forget we ever met.” You’ll mull over those words for days. Then you’ll succumb. You’ll delete her number and forget you ever met. And you’ll be fine.
You’ll get your first job at 19 during your Form Six vacation. Your boss – a 39-year-old man whom everyone will call Manager Geoff – will tell you, “There is something about you. I want to hire you.” He’ll call you Mutabani (son). He will hold your hand. He’ll tell you about consistency and honesty. He’ll take you and the other staff at the end of every month to Hakuna Matata in Nankulabye for pork. He’ll drive you home in his Mark II on some days. And he’ll tell you uncountable times, “Mutabani, don’t ever lose your family because you are looking for money.”
There will be times when you won’t be able to save. It won’t be because you don’t want to save. It’ll be because at that stage of your life, you’ll have just enough to get you by. So no one should make you feel like you are nothing because you don’t have savings. Remember, the dots will connect looking backwards.
You will be friend-zoned. You’ll fail at relationships. A girl will tell you, “You’re not my type.” That shit will hurt like you hit your little toe on the leg of a table. You’ll want to prove yourself. Then one day, like a flash of magic, you’ll wake up with a clear mind. And you’ll stop trying so hard to prove yourself to anyone.
At 20, you’ll pick up the guitar. You’ll start learning. You’ll create a world in your mind that says you might become a maestro at playing that six-stringed instrument. You’ll learn just enough to get by. And that’s okay.
On your 25th birthday, you’ll get a call. The guy on the other end of the line will say, “Man, Lorine is dead” and he’ll hang up. Your mind will go blank. You planned to call her that evening when you got home. That won’t happen anymore. You’ll remember three weeks earlier when you told her you’d make time to go see her. You didn’t. You instead went to visit a girl you had a crush on. That’s how you’ll learn your biggest lesson on priorities and what really matters to you.
At eight, you’ll receive a gift box. It will be a pack of books from your aunt who will return to dust three years later. You’ll read Hansel and Gretel, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, The Three Little Pigs, Little Red Riding Hood and The Gingerbread Man. These books will launch you into the world of stories.
More things will happen.