You Make Me Believe In Infinite Universes

People need religion to feel safe. They need to believe in an afterlife, something bigger, something that makes sense. It’s the only way they can live. It’s the only way they can cope with life and death and all the confusing shit that happens in between. It’s the only way they can survive.

You know what I need? I need universes. I need to believe in an infinite number of universes where every possibility I’ve missed out on, every choice I haven’t made, has been exhausted and lived out. The life-changing and the trivial. I need a universe where I napped through the day I met you. I need a universe where I decided to have a yogurt instead. Where I spilled the coffee on myself reaching for a spoon. Where I had to change my outfit. I need a universe where I was too late and you left before I saw you. I need a universe where I met you just the same. I need a universe where I fell for you just the same. I need a universe where it all happened just as beautifully as it happened in my universe.

But I need a universe where you didn’t leave. I need a universe where our story unfolded. I need a universe with a happy ending. I need a universe with our happy ending. I need a universe that makes sense to me. That’s what I need. That’s the only way I can live. That’s the only way I can survive. That’s the only way I feel safe.