Sometimes I think about all of the alternate worlds

There are the childhood ones. There is the one where I learned four languages, the one where I saw the lake retract from the shore until the land ached for rain, the one where I was stolen by fairies and replaced with a changeling and everyone liked her just a little more than me.

There are the ones where I die. There is the one where I lost my balance and fell into a well, the one where the wolves devoured me, the one where I slip.

There are the ones where I think things worked out. The one where I wake up and don’t know you, the one where I don’t believe in ghosts, the one where the scars on my hands don’t exist.

There are the ones where I am someone else. The one where I talk a little louder, the one where I don’t like words quite as much, the one where there is a joke which doesn’t make me laugh and laugh.

There are the ones where what I feel about you is not the same. The one where I got into that other class, the one where I never stayed up late to see you, the one where I looked away. I have nightmares about all of the alternate worlds, but these most of all.

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