Parallel Universe.

So there is a theory that because the universe is infinite, there are more of us; exact replicas of ourselves living different lives at this very moment. Parallel universe. So somewhere, unfathomable distances away, we are living an infinite number of lives, each one different based on the many decisions, actions, choices, thoughts we have every second. Actions and thoughts others have. So somewhere, I'd like to think, I'm happy. Somewhere my mom is okay. Somewhere I'm not so sick all the time. Somewhere I'm with you. Somewhere I have less scars. Somewhere I lived up to my potential. Somewhere I still think the world a happy place. And that has to be enough for me, that there could be a life that worked out. It has to get me by knowing that in a way I am living out the life I wanted. So for now, we can just do our best, and late at night we can open our drawer of dreams and look at the life it could have been. That we are living somewhere else. Because it's beautiful and we know, deep down, that life was once possible because we once deserved it. Yes, I know the pain it brings, searing through our veins and straight to our hearts and that every night it's harder and harder to close that drawer back up. But we do, because we have to be brave and we know the hopelessness we feel would be so much worse if we clouded our minds with the dreams we can no longer have; the life we no longer have the chance to live. If I could, I'd reach my arms into the universe to simply place my hand upon your face. The face that does not belong to me in this life, but to a me in another, just to have a feel, a connection, to the you that I love.

I hope that this brings me to you, trillions upon trillions of light years away.

If this is it, I want to say the right thing.

Here is my letter. Maybe someday, after things have long changed, you'll find it and read it and know that somethings don't change.


Dear,
Love has been a tricky thing with me. I know what it is and I know what it isn't and yet I still haven't got a clue as to what the hell love is. I may not know everything and I doubt I ever will but I know somethings for sure. I know that love has not always been kind to me. I know that I haven't received as much as I should. I also know that I could be giving more. And the most important thing is that I love you. I've waited a long time for you to come around and when you did, it wasn't like I was falling in love. It was like like took me and shot me into the air and I kept going. When you left, it was like I had to fall back and the Earth's gravity sucked me back to the ground. It hurt. And I'm sure it always will. Some days it's the same as it was when you were first gone. Other days, I pretend not to care and I just feel like being destructive. But the days that hurt the most are when I think about you more than the other days. Like when I look at that cat or at that moon or even when I chew gum. I can't let go and I'm sorry for whatever burden that has ever put on you. No matter how hard I try, there is a hope that maybe, if you always know I'm here and how I feel, you'll realize while watching TV that you made a huge mistake and you want to come back. I know that won't happen. Two sides battle. Hope and eternal hopelessness. I'm the casualty. I just want to say that no one will love you like I do. But the real thing I want to say is that I never got the chance to say thank you. You changed my world by loving me like no one else would; like no one had the courage to. I hope with all my heart you can be really happy. You are the love of my life. This may change. I don't know. The important thing is that you made me want to stay around to find out.

Love always,
Emily

P.S. Thank you also for being my best friend. My very best friend. And for doing your very best to teach me things I wanted to know about like cars and about some things I didn't realize I wanted to know about like country music. Goodbye.

Greetings.

Meet my grandfather. He was born in '33 and spent his whole life paiting signs on huge buildings. He can carve you the Mona Lisa on a woodchip and he thinks all hospitals are uneccesary unless one of his family memebers is in one. As a kid, his idea of Sunday school was being dropped off and walking right past the church to the drug store to read comics until Sunday school was over and he could walk home. He was thrown out of Lutheran Bible school for making references to the pastor's mother. He claims to hate dogs and you see him sneak everything from steak to cookies to any dog he meets. He's the only person in the world I know who can fix anything. His big calloused hands have rocked me and picked me up off the ground with tenderness. He loves jokes of all kinds. He knows all the trees and all the birds. Meet my grandfather with me, for the first time.

Blues and greens.

Sometimes, we will really feel the world. We'll hear everything that it is always trying to say. We can it flow right through us. And it scares us. Shakes us to the core. Because it's easy and safe to think we are all alone in the vast sky above our little brains. But there it is. Below us and above us. It's everywhere. It's going in between the very atoms of our bodies and our brains. So next time we drive, we'll put our bodies out the window again and open up and we'll feel it.

Red, the blood of angry men.

Somedays, I'll wake up and feel like I'm in the movie August Rush.
Other days, I wake up and I'm in the passion of Moulin Rouge.
On some, it's Chorus Line, all the way.


Today, I woke up and I was in Les Miserables. Mainly the part where everyone dies, which is most of it. But the ending mostly. With all the dad back up and the flag waving and the red and blue everywhere and the song just beaming. Yes, that was this morning.

High school.

Okay, listen up.

You will get lucky. Because you are hot and great in the sack.

Let's go to prom and fill in all the blasted stereotypes. Let's get drunk and have sex we think we'll remember the rest of our lives.

Beat me. Ha.

I fell down the stairs.

I got punched.

I have a hickey right on my boob turning a disgusting color.

I fell off a bench.

I scraped my leg on my car.

I slammed my hand in the front door.

I cut my leg shaving.

I'm a crash dummy.