I lie in my bed and think about natural disasters and serial killers and how I may never fall in love and how it's possible that I'm a sociopath and then, after I've worried about all of those insane and unlikely things, I start worrying about other things.
My mind goes in a circle. It goes like this:
What if my parents had never met?
What if they had decided not to get married?
What if another sperm had beat out the sperm that I was?
What if I had eaten some sort of poison as a baby and died?
What if we had moved into a different house?
What if my sisters hadn't been born?
What if I had gone to a different high school?
What if I hadn't written notes to the people I wrote notes to?
What if I had picked different friends?
I have, after years of "What if?"'s, I've come up with several conclusions. They follow:
1.) There are no "What if?"'s. There is only fate. There is no chance that my parents never would've met or that I would've ingested poison as an infant. This conclusion is rather philosophical and makes for great poetry.
2.) Everything is an enormous coincidence. Every choice, every meeting, every letter - all of it - it's a plain old coincidence and all of those coincidences have come together to make me and my life real and actual.
3.) Everything is a long string of miracles. It's different from fate. It's the idea that all of these things weren't planned or anything, but that they all came together in a very beautiful way that was influenced by the hand of some higher power.
4.) This is all my fault. This conclusion usually comes when I feel a) empowered or b) blue. Everything that has happened is because of choices I have made or choices my parents made or choices Kaitlyn and Avery and Emily and Katie made.
Maybe someday it'll all make sense, but I doubt it. For now, I'll simply worry about all sorts of things. Maybe someday. Until then, "What if?"
All my love,