So there’s a theory that there’s an infinite amount of universes,
with infinite truths and infinite realities,
so maybe there’s a universe where you and I end up together, right?
Maybe there’s a universe where I told you how I felt right away, instead of waiting until you were halfway gone. I would have told you that day in the park, I wore your sweater and you smiled at the fireflies, they were strange and wonderful to you, like you were to me. We would have kissed the day we went for pizza, and I laughed at you because you burned your tongue and I wouldn’t have yet known that a taste of you would set me aflame.
Maybe there’s a universe where I got my shit together and asked you to stay. Where you never drunkenly said things that made all too sober me want to run in the opposite direction because I didn’t know that this was what it was supposed to feel like.
Maybe there’s a universe where I met you later, after I had time to grow and fail, and get back up again. After I had seen what love was so I would recognize its dizzy hearted thrumming. After I knew how to talk to boys that looked like you.
And maybe, there’s a universe where we never met, and my heart isn’t stitched up with time and my own words because writing is the only way I know how to heal.
But honestly, I’m glad I ended up in this universe. Like a broken bone, I knitted back together stronger than before and in this universe, you aren’t the whole story and I have so many more chapters to go.