Chaos

The us in my head has lived lifetimes.

I know we’re soulmates in a different one.

In the multiverse of multiverses, I know you are there and I’m next to you in your kitchen. You’re cooking me pasta, gluten free because you think of me, and your hand is reaching out for me to step into. You don’t face me, or glance to me, as you reach out. It’s because you know I’ll come to you. I’ll always come to you.

I know somewhere there’s a Me who gets to straighten your curly hair. It’s because you love her so much that this simple joy makes you happy, seeing her happy. Seeing me happy. You foster generations and worlds of creativity, just by being the first and only to love her as she loves the world.

Somewhere, you walk with me arm in arm at four am. We have to walk across London to get the only bus we can that will take us home. You let me smoke your cigarette, and the childish high it gives me makes you smile. While she is spinning and skipping through the lamplights, you smile at me. Because you love me.

I know that in that lifetime, and probably every lifetime, you are a successful actor. You stand in the suit I choose for you because it makes you look the most like Heath Ledger, and you love that comparison. To the side of the step-and-repeat, I film candid videos of you. Not for your instagram carousel I know they’ll later end up on, but because I’m so proud of you.

I know in that world you send me flowers. You let me paint your nails - just the thumbs. You let me decorate you with all the vintage clothes I find. You sit beside me and read my work to me, even though I don’t need you to. Even though I work best when I read it myself. I just like to hear your voice. You tell me all the silly jokes about tractors, all the time. Even, if not especially, when i’m angry. You love when I’m angry. When I’m anything, because it’s all yours.

In that life I get my work done on time because I’m not busy crying and writing prose about you.

You introduce me to your friends. To Adam. To Penelope, whom you may or may not be in love with.

In that universe I wear your initial on a chain round my neck. You wear the jacket I bought you, and the Polaroid of me is in your pocket. I exhaust myself to go round and sleep next to you, just for a few hours, just like I do in this universe because I love simply your proximity. When we wake before the sun, I take the long route home because I get to be next to you in that bitter cold. There, we go bowling. You meet my friends, when I offer. There, I am a priority. There, it does not matter that I have driven so far to see you because you do the same for me, too.

I don’t live in that multiverse though, so I have to live in my memories. I play Solas and I think of the pink sunset as I walked to your house. That was the last time I had you unequivocally. How we curled up on your bed that valentines day, trying to find a solution where I didn’t have to leave. Maybe if I hadn’t left, if I’d gone to your party and met your friends, my love wouldn’t be unrequited now. Maybe the world that has an us is one where I chose you that day.

I play All Too Well, the 10 minute version, in this universe because when I say ill daydream till the end of this song… it means I get a whole ten, guilt free minutes of living life with you. We have lived so much life in my head.

None of this is real though. What’s real is how i’ve asked for my clothes back, but I don’t think you’ll give them to me. I think you like wearing them and remembering me. Maybe you don’t remember me, how I hold you or touch you or choose you. Maybe you just like the clothes because they’re nice.