There are so many probabilities in life, that it’s not even funny. When you drink another coffee, what’s the probability of losing your pretty white teeth? When you drink another glass of wine, what’s the probability of you driving home drunk and getting into a car crash and dying? I’m not saying all these things to make you guys “rethink your lives”- heck no, I just want you to the of the probabilities.
When I look in mirror (which is seldom few times), I think of what made me who I am today. I think of all the books I’ve read, all the shows I watched, all the people I’ve met, all the stories I’ve been told- would I still be me with my feminist and heart-on-my-sleeve soul? Would I still want to make up my own cliches with my future boyfriend and tell my children about them? Would I still dance in the rain or have an compulsive obsession with organisation? Would I still want to own a vinyl player with some Beatles and Arctic Monkeys records? Would I still be troubled in math and still have my Miss Goody Two Shoes attitude at school?
WOULD I STILL BE ME?
If I had never read one of the books or series that are on my bookshelf or in a chair-crate somewhere in my house, would I still be me?
The probabilities are endless. Unfathomable. Relentlessly insane, those probabilities are. They scare me, too. Sometimes I lay awake at night with my aching body longing for sleep while my imaginative mind speaks to me and whispers in my worst fears.
Some people may find that this is silly of me, that I’m being childish with my fearful ways. But believe me, you’ll never know what’s terrifying until the probabilities begin to show up.
Thanks for reading.
Best of luck,
The Time Traveling Writer.