What if, in another universe, I deserve you?

Hear me out. There’s this philosopher from the 1890s named William James, and he coined this theory about “the multiverse” which suggests that a hypothetical set of multiple universes comprises everything that can possibly exist simultaneously.

Are you following? The entirety of space, time, matter and energy is all happening at once in different timelines: It’s the idea of parallel universes. Right? So okay, let’s presume the multiverse is real.

Well then, maybe somewhere in those infinite universes is one, or several, where I deserve you.

Maybe there’s a universe out there — happening now — where we end up together and when I close my eyes at night, I’m not dreaming the way a normal person would. Instead I’m seeing flashes of our lives in the multiverse. They’re not simple dreams because I miss you, right? They’re scientific, anachronistic visions.

For instance:

In this universe, I don’t want a family, but maybe in another, I’m more of the type to settle down. Maybe there’s a universe where you hold my hand while I give birth to our daughter in a white hospital room with pink flowers and fuzzy teddy bears on the window sill. Where we take family vacations and pose for dorky pictures in our neon bathing suits on the sands of a Florida beach. Where we curl up to watch a cheesy movie at the end of a long day in our big, green, suburban house once the kids have fallen asleep.

Maybe there’s a universe where we are middle-aged and taking our child to college and bickering over where to put her dresser or what posters she should hang up. Where you kiss her on the forehead ‘goodbye’ and we drive home in contented, proud silence, your fingers grazing my knuckles, our wedding rings glistening. Where we both have gray hair and we laugh and smile and hug and drink lemonade on the porch.

Maybe there’s a universe where that’s the life I want. Where I don’t second guess everything and I’m not afraid of commitment and of the future and of love. Maybe there’s a universe without all the noise in my head and the pride that makes me so fiercely independent and the coldness in my heart that I can turn on and off like a security fence.

Maybe there’s a universe where I’m the right person for you. Where I adore every nice thing you did for me without starting to resent you. A universe where you actually end up with someone who appreciates you. Where no one becomes a doormat. Where both of us can shed our baggage and curiosity and issues. A universe where we’re happy — without wondering if that happiness is some messed-up Jenga game ready to topple at the slightest quiver. A universe where we’re comfortable and sure, and we have cats.

Maybe there’s a universe where we fall asleep next to each other every night like spoons, like two innocent bunnies — my face buried in your neck, hugging your warmth — and we both don’t want anything or anybody else. Where we don’t want more, we just want each other.

Maybe there’s a universe where I don’t covet so much all the time and where I’m content and where I don’t wonder about picking up and moving to Japan without saying anything to anyone and where at this very juncture, I can just know I’ll always want to come home and cook dinner with you.

If you think of it all this way, then it’s like neither of us did anything wrong.

You just found me in the wrong universe. That’s all. This is, as they say, the darkest timeline. Everywhere else, nay, “everywhen” else — us in the Civil War, us in Ancient Egypt, us in the swinging ’60s — we are happy.

If this theory holds, well, by the law of averages, there had to be one universe — just this one — where we don’t end up together. Here and now just happens to be it. If you think of it this way, nothing is our fault.

So see, that explains everything. We’re not together anymore because of the multiverse.

Well, isn’t that comforting?

If you’re sad, do like I do and just think of the other ‘verses. The ones where I believe in love and where I don’t hate myself and where I never feel the need to kamikaze relationships. A universe where we can have nice things. It’s helpful, right?

Because you could have loved me forever. And maybe in another universe, I let you.

Gaby Dunn (x)

(Source: lovelykristine, via a-realclassact)


The head of a company survived 9/11 because
His son started kindergarten.

Another fellow was alive because it was
His turn to bring donuts.

One woman was late because her
Alarm clock didn’t go off in time.

One was late because of being stuck on the NJ Turnpike
Because of an auto accident.

One of them
Missed his bus.

One spilled food on her clothes and had to take
Time to change.

Car wouldn’t start.

One couldn’t
Get a taxi.

The one that struck me was the man
Who put on a new pair of shoes that morning,
Took the various means to get to work but before.
He got there, he developed a blister on his foot.
He stopped at a drugstore to buy a Band-Aid.
That is why he is alive today..

Now when I am
Stuck in traffic,
Miss an elevator,
Turn back to answer a ringing telephone…
All the little things that annoy me,
I think to myself,

This is exactly where
I’m meant to be
At this very moment

(via theoutsiders)

(via thatgirlwiththegryffindorbag)


allenwilt said: Sent. Tell me if you got them. :) Have a good evening.

Got it. Thank you so much. I’ll spend my night with a smile in my face. :) :) :) Thank you so much for being so generous to me. Mabuhay!


allenwilt said: You kept it in a folder??!!! That is some hardcore stuff right there. My heart is bursting. I don't know what else to say except thank you. And if you could give me your email address, I would like to send you pdf copies of the two books I had self-published. They're not perfect (typos and all, and many other things that I was too lazy to edit) but they're my babies.

Oh My God!!! Really? Thank you so much too… Oh My god!!! I’m speechless.. My heart is also bursting.. Yes I kept it in a folder and I still have that folder with me until now, with my cherished stuffs.  Thank you so much Colvinwilt. I am not bothered by typo’s and all because I’m your greatest fan. hehehe. My email address is touchalltheloststars@gmail.com.


allenwilt said: Thank you, dear. That meant a lot. I hope your new year is off to an awesome start. Hugs!

I’m a very big fan of you. When I started following your blog, I don’t have a  personal computer, yet, but I really, really love your art so I used to save all your poems and prose in my Facebook notes or in my email and when I have extra money I used to print it out and compiled it in a folder (It’s been 2 or 3 years now so the pages are all yellow).  I often quote you in my facebook posts.. You are very talented, and you are worth quoting and all your art work is worth preserving. : )



My hobbies include laying in bed in my underwear while I listen to music and hate myself

(via campbelltoe)

Freaking fucking awesome…


Freaking fucking awesome…

(via cassandracarter)

Like a Pro…

Like a Pro…


Men, In Color

Blue. The jock to your nerd. He was unattainable. But later you discovered, not nearly so. You were equal parts exasperated and exhilarated when he gave you the time of day. But what fantasies you entertained were ephemeral. You were filled with the negative side of the Self: self-doubt, self-abasement, self-deprecation, self-denigration, self-consciousness, self-contempt. Meanwhile he had the positive light of the hemisphere: self-assuredness, self-respect, self-reliance, self-esteem. You were a worm in the book, while he was part of the ‘in’ crowd. How could you keep up? You were the ‘in’ to his adequacy, the ‘in’ to his sufficiency. And the envious looked at you and compared themselves, or compared the ones who looked obviously better: better face, better body, better poise. What did you have that they didn’t? High-school drama can consume. It doesn’t last.

Red. Your dynamic was ‘argument’. The bond that held your relationship was fighting. A day didn’t go by without a hurtful word, an abusive gesture, a sort of punishment, some damaging blight. Your relationship took the features of a contest. It consumed you both and you broke it off. A few days later, you tried being friends, then rebooted to lovers, then reverted to your sadistic defaults. Sex was akin to a beastly activity. But beyond the bed you were fighting recurrently, almost obsessively. You often grew tired of each other. Yet you were convinced you were meant to be together, and so you didn’t let go. But you had to, eventually. Release was the most adult thing you could give each other at your age. The toil of early twenties. The ruins of university. You left him behind and took your degree.

Green. Your love was gradual. But while his love increased, yours remained at a standstill. You tried to reciprocate his devotion, which in your opinion, was becoming a fixation. You tried to counter his affection, but you couldn’t be as fervent, even to yourself. Everyone says his eyes go dreamy whenever he looks at you. But what could be flattering in the beginning can become a little bit disturbing when done without pause. He called you every hour to ask what you were doing, to give him all the details, blow by blow, no pun intended. He wanted you to spend all your free time with him and it wore you out. Later you realized the guilt you felt was not because you couldn’t return his intimations, it was because you had no more respect for him. It didn’t hold. You continued to hope that he has changed, for his sake. You hope he grew a pair.

Brown. It was a period your bestfriends tagged The Lost Months. You had forgotten yourself because of your love for him. It was obvious that you loved him more and even when you tried to control yourself and not exhibit it, everyone could sniff you out. You wanted to control him, to be with him every second. You felt jealous when he spent time with his friends. You felt jealous when he spent time with his dog. You found yourself posing for him, forgiving him easily, bending your back to accommodate his necessities. You think you changed your first name to Irredeemable. Your last name became Pathetic. Irredeemable Pathetic. That didn’t look good on any paper. He left you, of course. Right now he’s somewhere remembering you, hoping you had grown a pair.

Gold. The Soulmate Special. You loved everything about him that you hated. “There is no perfect guy. There’s only a perfect guy for you.” To you, he was the quintessence of that adage, and to him you were its embodiment. Imperfect, but somehow perfect still. You fought, but you rushed to apologize. You argued, but you listened. You dined without rushing it, on food and other things. You knew when to make love and when to fuck. Your love matched and reached a balance. You were interested when he talked and felt the same when he was silent. You taught each other things without cherishing pride. You looked at him with dreamy eyes because your eyes reflected his. You didn’t have to be together all the time, because you felt like you were next to each other. Dependable but not lackluster. You saw the deficient side of each other, physically, emotionally, personality-wise, and decided to stick around anyway. You exulted when you brought out each other’s best, and patient when you brought out the worst. Eternity material. You could so spend an infinity with him. You didn’t worry about what you said, whether you bored him, or if you acted wrong. You just knew you’d sail through everything. But shit happens, and he became the one that got away. Eventually, he had to leave but you had to stay. Physically, inevitably. Still, your feelings remain to this day, as you know his feelings do, too.

Now on to Translucent. It exists. Don’t give up on it.


← Older entries Page 1 of 12