The idea of a multiverse, in which parallel versions of me exist as a result of different outcomes or decisions, fills me with a tremendous sympathy. Poor alternate versions of me. Somewhere among your infinite potential number sits the alternate me who, despite his allegiance to my actual timeline, made a different choice when it came to picking adventure over despair. You poor bastard.
Which, incidentally, is why I don’t subscribe to that theory. The best thing we can hope for is a life where we choose more than half of what happens to us.
I read a quote that said something like ‘the definition of hell is that on the day you die, you meet the person you could have been’. All I can think is ‘so do they’. Call no man happy, right, Herodotus?
Woodsman
Of all my faults, I think it's the inability to be decisive that's the worst. Or maybe not. I don't know.
