UNIVERSES

i) When I was 15, I learned something new: the possibility of parallel universes; a separate universe or world that coexists with our known one but is very different from it. I wonder how many universes I am living in right now. I'd like to think seven is enough. I make a list of what kind of life I'd be living in each universe. And when it came to love, I had no clue. I thought it'd be great if I met you and loved you in six of my lives and wondered about you in the seventh.

ii) Your existence has always been unknown to me. I met you in the crowd, or perhaps in that coffee shop that gets too busy at noon, or at the birthday party of a friend I don't talk to anymore. You were always this faceless person, this next lady I never had any hold on. I'd laugh with you in the elevator, or sleep in your arms, and the next day, you'd slip away slowly, without making a noise. And I'd lose you again when you were only a few seconds away from me, just like I lose everything else. Losing the grasp on something that you never had is a terrible thing to talk about.

iii) Yesterday I saw a video of a woman talking about her first love. She realized she had never known what first love was supposed to be like. I looked at her closely. She must be fifty, I thought. If she knew what love was like, would it be any different? I wrote a small letter to you. Maybe I will give it to you when I meet you. I ask you a few questions. Do you think love is enough? Do you think missing someone is enough?... If it were, people wouldn't be so lonely.

iv) For the time being, I met some lady. She was sweet and nice. Adorable even. At first, I thought it was you. I came to like her a lot, love her a little, and then slowly, I realized that two people weren't supposed to hurt each other so much. I don't believe in the love my parents talk about. I don't believe that it's usually unkind or heart-wrenching. I don't believe that compromise and settling for it is what I should do when I am supposed to feel like I could be with someone who's worth all the trouble. I became miserably aware that that lady wasn't you. So, like always, I packed my bags in the middle of the night and left the city, like I always do. 

v) I wondered if it was better to wait than to rush. So, I gave myself a chance to be loved — by others but mostly by myself. I went to opera houses, art cafes, and beaches with blue water. I ate healthier and watched noir movies. I even started going to the gym and reading those huge philosophy books I have always found boring. I swam in the oceans and skydived and wrote letters to some guy I met on a vacation and took dancing classes with. In the back of my mind, I always thought of you. I wondered what you were up to when you were waiting for me. 

vi) I reached an age where I had to decide if I wanted to live alone or build a life with someone who wasn't you. I wondered if it was okay to be alone. Maybe it was, but it would be terrible to carry all that heaviness by myself, I thought. So, I decided to stop searching for you and told myself to fall in love with whoever was offering me a little of it. I slept softly in her warm embrace and wrote poetry that she appreciated. I was aware of your absence, but there was nothing I could do. Love is a thing you find just as easily as you lose it. What life had offered me so far, I thought, it was better to cherish it. 

vii) A decade later, I found my diary where I had written about my version of parallel universes. It felt childish, stupid even. I wondered what made me think of all that unrealistic mess. Then my eyes fell on a sentence. All these years, the world had moved so quickly around me, but at that moment, it came to a screeching halt — "What if I keep wondering about you thirty years from now? Will you be doing the same? Arrive late, but meet me and quickly learn to love me again. I don't want to be painfully stuck in my seventh life only wondering about you…"