I’ve always been fascinated by the magic of cosmology—the science of the universe, and our place in it. Introspection comes easy at four in the morning, walking back from wherever, with the moon and the stars drifting overhead.
Of the many theories that exist, none get me going more than the multiverse theory. The theory was the focus of a “Family Guy” episode two weeks ago. This is how Stewie Griffin put it: “The theory states that there are an infinite number of universes coexisting with ours on parallel dimensional planes. Now, in each of these alternate universes, the reality is different than our own—sometimes only slightly, sometimes quite radically…. Every possible eventuality exists.” Basically, since time and space are presumably infinite, anything that can happen has happened, is happening and will happen again—maybe not here in our universe, but beyond.
The point is that somewhere else, right now, you could be a rock star or a lesbian, a murderer or a president. Many of the accomplishments you hang from your walls might never have come to fruition, but on the flip side of this, in other alternate worlds, “alternate you” was smart enough to not make the same mistakes. And this is where I start to get emotional. The whole thing sounds so romantic. Let’s face it, as good as you might have it, there are always going to be things or memories you wish you could change. Parts of yourself—things that you have done or that have been done unto you—that you wish to shed like a pair of wet socks, but that always manage to haunt you at your darkest hours. With multiverse, you are given a second (and a third, fourth, fifth, etc.) chance—a chance to make amends or to escape from the ghost of this or that.
So I turned it over to Duke students, and asked them to think about their regrets: what they hoped their alternate self was doing right now, things they might have gotten wrong, but that their brother/sister from another dimension was doing right. I got all kinds of responses—Facebook messages, texts, anonymous e-mails—and have put just a few together below.
“Honestly, I hope they aren’t so scared to be exposed. I hope they stop looking at that girl from class, and just say something. That they aren’t really as scared to be upfront and open. Who knows where it could have gone.”—from Guts Don’t Fail Me Now
“I think what I regret most is the fact that I have always allowed myself to be last. I truly believe that when you’re in love, the needs, wants and desires of the other individual come first but not at the cost of your own self-worth. I regret the fact that I’ve let people abuse me emotionally and physically in the name of ‘love’.”—from Favor for Holly
“A big regret I had since coming to Duke was this guy I was dating, who was closeted, and I feel like I didn’t give him a chance to work through it before I decided to break it off. I always wonder now if things would’ve been different if I’d been more patient, or understanding.”—from Wondering What If
“I think that the alternate me is probably a lot happier with herself right now. She has always respected herself in her relationships, or rather in her lack of true relationships, and therefore has never felt used or ashamed, but rather empowered and proud.”—from Lucy in the Sky
And that, my friends, is the magic I’m talking about. Imagine a world where things go right, where you are strong enough to do all the things you’ve dreamed, or at least have the courage to keep some of your nightmares at bay.
I know from personal experience that sometimes doing what you know you should do, or feeling how you know you should feel, is easier said than done. Although fanciful visions of a reality parallel to ours are all well and good, “it is important to remember that it is never too late to become what you might have been,” to say what you might have said or to do what you might have done. But some things are a matter of the past, and for those I say look upwards and have faith in knowing that maybe, just maybe, somewhere out there, you are getting it right.
Thomas Gebremedhin is a Trinity senior. His column runs every other Thursday.
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