You will never meet most versions of yourself

About the lives that exist only in thought, never in reality

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It’s always difficult for me to make decisions or to choose one between many when I have to…. Like, I want to know the consequences of both before choosing one of them… You ask me to make choices between turning right or left, but can you at least show me a glimpse of what lies ahead of both choices? I know it sounds a wish of a lunatic, but I want to…. I want to see the consequences of what could have happened if i had chosen otherwise… Like opting for some other course, would it have been any different? If yes, then how? And if not, then i don’t care… I want to know what happens if I had taken a stand that day? Would it have changed the world/situation I am living in? I want to know the version of myself that is living the life that i didn’t choose because of choosing the other way… I promise i wouldn’t have regret about what i have but just a glimpse… I wish there was a door I could sneak through and see the versions of myself where I chose to say YES instead of NO and where I said NO and not YES…. I just want to know… That’s all….

And sometimes I wonder if those other versions of me wonder about me too. The one who chose a different course. The one who took that risk. The one who said what I was too afraid to say. The one who stayed when I left and left when I stayed. Are they happier? Or are they sitting somewhere, carrying their own collection of questions, wondering what became of the life I chose?

Maybe they have everything I once thought I wanted and still feel incomplete. Maybe they look at their own choices and imagine me as the fortunate one. Maybe every version of us is standing at a different window, looking across at another life and wondering if the view is any better from there.

And perhaps that is the strange thing about being human. We spend so much time imagining the roads we didn’t take that we forget those roads eventually become ordinary too. Yet the curiosity never leaves. Silently, it exists in the background, asking what became of all the people we could have been, all the stories that ended before they ever had the chance to begin.

Sometimes I think that if I were ever given that glimpse, it would only create more questions. I would want to know what happened after that. And after that too. One answer would lead to another door, and another door after that. Maybe there is no version of life where we finally stop wondering. Maybe curiosity is simply the price we pay for having choices.

Still, I would take that chance in a heartbeat. Just to see the face of the stranger I could have become. Just to know whether he learned the lessons I am still struggling to understand. Whether he found peace in places where I found confusion. Whether he is looking back at me with the same curiosity, wishing he could sneak through a door and see the life that became mine.