My life in a parallel world sucks.
When I made this journey, I dreamt of better things, bigger things, than I have in my own world. Maybe a larger house, with a yard that stretched for miles. Perhaps I had my dream job, and was world renowned for my success. I had dreamt of this, but I was so very wrong.
I thought that in parallel worlds things were always better. That in the different version of my life, I would have made different choices that turned out for the best. I thought that my real life was the worst version of my choices actually played out. I sat and thought about it on boring summer nights, what it would be like if I could trade places with the alternate me. Or even just to see what I was capable of, if I had been given different choices or better opportunities. But I had never thought that my parallel me would end up in this place.
As the lightening cracked the cloud ridden skies, my heart too broke. I stood in a dimly lit alley, looking down at a burnt out meth head. I can’t believe it. This is my alternative me.