Dear God,
If there is a god
Why aren't you listening?
I'm not going to sit here and question "why me?"
No, I've accepted my life for what it is.
But I'd like to know why them?
Why are you going to let my best friends die?
If you're so great and powerful,
Then why don't you save them?
show some pity and give them something?
Some reason, some sort of hope to keep going.
I'm trying.
I'm trying harder than you can imagine.
Trying to do what they say your job is.
They need a light, a reason to live, and they
Can't find it.
I'm doing all that I can.
But it isn't enough.
They still want to die, still see no point in living,
But I hope you know that if they go I'll be soon to follow
They're my life, besides my family, Hell they are family.
I don't sit here and wonder "why me?"
Instead I break the silence with screams of
Why NOT me?
Why do they have to suffer and I have things going well?
Why take them? What did they do to deserve this?
I'm the sinner. The one who should die, not them
God how can you take them and
Leave me here to die anyways?
Why not take me and spare them the sorrow?
I hope you know you're taking three lives with you that night.

String Theory. A theoretical framework in which the point-like particles of particle physics are replaced by one dimensional objects called strings. In string theory, the multiverse is an idea in which our universe is not the only one; many universes exist parallel to each other where all possibility has potential as the universes are theorized to be infinite.

When I heard this for the first time, I imagined us all on this giant carousel, spinning in the infinite, to the ***** music of fate.

And the possibility was sweet, like cotton candy. And the potential seemed to rise like tidal waves and I was filled with joy for the other versions of myself doing great things out there somewhere.

Writing lullabies to star children. Kissing ink blotches on to skin like paper. Replacing the light bulb in the moon. Dreaming love into reality.

And I began to imagine the strings stretched and rotating, propeller like, in a theoretical game of double dutch. Fighting back my desire to move too quickly.  Feeling my body sway and rushing in too soon.

And I was sad for all of the versions of me that are struggling. Failing to see the beauty in the gutter. Walking alone in the rain... still. Writing quarky signs on information superhighway off ramps, like:

Quantum Mechanic.
Will tune your Hadron Collider
for food.

And I began to remember the geometrical string patterns we would draw on graph paper in math class. And knowing somehow, even then, that they stood like a veve for infinite possibility. And I began to wonder what would happen if I'd chosen differently at key moments in my life. The infinite outcomes circling like ashes falling down.

Would I be bigger? Smarter? Stronger? Easier to Love?

And the web began to stretch until it was bigger than my simple mind.

And I began to wonder at the insignificant moments. The moments overlooked. And I began to toy with the possibility that our fate is truly ******* in these moments. It was these choices that determine how easy we are to love. And how it would unfold into a chess match of a million different decisions until it was so far out of reach that it was painful to consider.

And these strings, interwoven and bundled “bigger than the sky”. Marionette strings to just as many possibilities as stars. Or more.

A universe where these strings are ropes binding sails to boats and time is the ocean.
A universe where music is medicine and I could sing your broken heart back to hope.
A universe where we could leap from place to place so I could find my young self and say,
“Listen. Don't try so hard. It gets better. And you become so much cooler. And though it seems so important now, it isn't. And guard your heart a little more than you do. And a little less.”

A universe where touch is talk. And to dare is normal. And our hearts are fluent in every language.

And then the notion of the strings as veins. Veins that form a complex system in a beautiful body of flesh and possibility and star dust so much greater than ours. With limbs and hands and heart and eyes and tongue and soul. And this body of possibility is not the only one. Other possibilities are forming other bodies. And this greater celestial body is interacting with other bodies comprised of infinite possibility all making decisions at light speed which will cause it all to reverse or go round again.

And in this framework.

We are you.
And he and I are we.
And once is always.
And never is nothing.
And I am everything.

And we are all the same celestial body.
Made from the same strings.
The same gift of possibility.

We are the carousel.
And anything, anything is possible.

And through it all. All I can do is wonder how...

How do I get back to the version of me where you didn't leave.

There's nothing I've wanted more than the ability to forget.
I've tried but I haven't been able to master it, yet.

I can't forget your scorching touch,
You left scars, more than enough.

You were trying to mask your impotence,
I should've shown more than just indifference.

Tell me did you understand what you were doing, did you notice my change?
Must of since you'd repeatedly ask "Why are you acting so strange?"

I never admitted, never told a soul,
I never seeked help- I turned numb, bitter cold.

Tried to convince myself I was strong, stronger than you.
I was completely wrong, you knew this, too.

You hold so much sovereignty over me,
I still cannot comprehend how this can be.

You knew who'd keep quiet, you knew which prey to choose,
You're so clever, made sure you'd never lose.

Do you know how indefinitely f'cked up I am now?
Are you happy? Are you proud? Do you want to take a bow?

Your time is ending, your death is near,
You'll be gone, yet I'll always have so much to fear..

i don't believe in luck
(or god, or love, or you.)
i believe only what i feel,
and every day that's something new.
they refuse to use my lighter
because it's white (so very white)
all i have to say is,
does it matter -- the source of light?

there is a space in your hand
where mine used to fit,
and a small space in your heart
where our love just didn't.
i know it doesn't mean much,
but i hated to see you cry.
and i know its much too late,
but you helped me touch the sky.
do you remember how i'd sing for you?
i learned all your favorite songs.
and now i can't forget them,
they meant too much for far too long.
if you find yourself forgetting,
please close your eyes and count to ten.
take a deep breath, smile,
and let the memories flood back again.