Another Me, In Another Universe. Maybe, In Another Life- Things will Play out Differently.

Sometimes I think about another version of me, in another universe.



A version of me who never had to feel afraid in her own home. She grew up safe, nurtured, loved. Her mother would brush her hair every night and sing to her about how beautiful and strong she is.

She was never brainwashed with religion from birth, she was never broken over and over again as a child.

Her life wasn’t perfect, she still had a hard time making friends but she grew up in a home where her confidence and self esteem was nurtured.

She never had to survive 5 years of medical abuse in psych wards. And she never lost her health as a result.

Instead, she went off to college at 18. Her parents drove her to school to drop her off. I sometimes like to picture that image in my mind. Her mom cries, her dad cries, and she cries. Tears of joy. They are so proud.

She hugs them and steps out to write her own story.

College is rough and it has ups and downs. She often stresses over schoolwork. But since she was properly diagnosed with autism at a young age she had been able to get accommodations. To get help, proper help.

And she comes home over the holidays.

Then she graduates and she writes a few fantasy novels and they do really well. She begins her career doing advocacy work.

She never becomes physically disabled. Never has to work through the grief of losing more of her health every day.

She gets her first apartment. And eventually a house. Her dad helps her move her own furniture in. I often like to picture her house. It’s beautiful, welcoming, and cozy.

She brings home the puppy she adopted. She is happy.

I hope she’s happy. I hope she never has to survive what I did. I know she’s out there somewhere, in another life, in another universe.

I wonder what she’s doing tonight while I sit here in bed, tears streaming down my face from how my bones hurt, how my muscles scream in pain, and my heart breaks from the grief of losing everything I could have been.

She’s making dinner with her girlfriend. They met in college. The dog runs around the kitchen wagging its tail and they have all they’ll ever need. Maybe they have two dogs, or three.

She was taught what healthy love was growing up so her ability to love wasn’t broken like mine is. Her body wasn’t broken from a lifetime of abuse so she is healthy and strong at 22 and she has a long life ahead of her.

In addition to her regular part time job doing advocacy work, she runs her own small business making dollhouses. Sure things aren’t always easy, because the economy is still screwed. But she has a good foundation to stand on.

A few years down the line her and her girlfriend get married. The wedding isn’t a traditional one, she wears a dark starry black and gold gown. They don’t have a pastor or sign legal documents. It is a celebration of their love not a ceremony of religious ownership.

They eventually talk about having a child with IVF, and they do. They have a baby. She becomes a mother. I don’t know who her child is or turns out to be, but I know she loves that child with her whole being.

I hope she never loses that light. The light I lost as a child.

In another life I’m sure things went differently for me. I wonder who I would be and who I would have become.

So I hope that in another universe, or in another life, she is out there living that life for me. I hope she is carrying my dreams out and seeing them come true.

And I hope that one day I get to as well.

In another universe.

In the next life.

Maybe the stars will align for me.

Until that day comes, I will carry out the story I have been given. I will give it my all. And I will hold onto this hope and this dream. 

It may be a dead dream, long gone.

But it was worth everything to little me, so it is worth keeping, worth holding close. And one day, even if not in this life, the flame will be re-lit and I will have the chance to write a different story.