Her dull, drab clothing seems to indicate that she is aware of the sheer relentless blandness of her miserable excuse of a personality. In her 20s she will believe that she is finally unleashing her ‘wild side’ which in reality means occasionally drinking too much, embarrassing herself publicly and fucking on the first date.

This lifestyle will last until she hits her 30s, where she will realise she has spent an entire decade of her life doing the same boring shit millions of other women in her society have done, only she doesn’t have a boyfriend, fiancée or husband to show for it. She will quickly jump onto internet dating, find the first desperate blob with a penis that can stand to sit across a table from her, and get impregnated so that she can lock down a stable financial situation.

That will be the end, trapped in a shitty unloving marriage, lying on her back like a star fish while her husband who was a virgin up until their meeting mindlessly humps in her general direction until their screaming kids wake up and demand her attention. Until she dies.

There is no reason to get to 22, because her future is nothing. Just like her.