Whole New Worlds

The future is an intimidating concept.

A million things can go wrong this very second. A gigantic meteor may unceremoniously hit earth and obliterate it. An epidemic may spontaneously break out and wipe out our entire species.  You may read a horrible blog post.

But we can’t be sure of any of that. Yet.

There is a theory I come across everywhere, be it old school science fiction books or the netherworld of the internet, that’s  pretty interesting if you consider it with an open mind and an imagination that exceeds an obsessive need for precise scientific explanations. It says, in short, that every time you makes a decision, a number of “parallel universes” come into existence where you did differently. There are infinite realities and all of them make just as much coherent sense in their contexts as any other. This is stressful because everything in the world(s) is connected in such strange, complex ways that not only can you never fathom the gravity of your choices, but you can never go back and turn a different road when you feel like you went with the wrong alternative.

And you can never draw an accurate cause and effect relationship to explain the way things are because, for all you know, the littlest most unassuming things determined your final subjective truth. You laughed at a bad joke and a plant species mutated. You spilt ketchup on your shirt and a volcano erupted. You binged a tv show and an AI passes the Turing test. Can you really, with absolute surety, say that these things aren’t related at all?

In your own world or in some other one, the possibilities are endless.

We don’t  have A single future. We have billions, trillions of them.

The Butterfly effect is applicable in every situation and makes for interesting contemplations when you are waiting for your turn at the barbers, but being conscious of it for too long (like I have been) can turn brains to sludgy, slimy, grey mush.

I am going to go to college, you guys.

This moment seems electric. I am very aware that a decision at this stage will determine the rest of my life in peculiar ways and the prospect that I may make the wrong choice is horrifying. It is a bit too real this time. Shockingly in my face.

Since everything is supposed to be this huge organised mess of chaotic events, every little action of mine, say a sneeze or a fart, may be causing changing the stock market in Sweden or perhaps I might never go to a good university because a chopstick broke somewhere in China.  According to that, everything I do is very detrimental.

Yeah, this is where I’m at. I will pardon a few raised eyebrows and minor speculation about my sanity because I admit that it’s a little crazy of me but I’m coping, alright?

I mean, college is scary. It is such a hideously adult thing to do. There is so much that I can do and want to do. There is also so much I am not looking forward to.

Like the lack of uniforms. Some would perceive it as FINALLY being allowed to wear what they want to so that they can make personal statements among peers. I just see an extra 20 minutes being wasted in picking out clothes every single morning. Or the sudden extreme independence. Seriously, the idea of living in a new city with random strangers in a room is not very appealing to me. I develop pet peeves within seconds and its difficult to adjust my sloppiness to the sloppiness of somebody else. Above that, there is the fact that I have to stay academically sound the whole time as well. What was even the point of finishing school? Is my life going to be an endless series of academic adjustments after all?

I can whine all I want, but facts are facts.

Things are happening now. Lives are converging and diverging. Maybe for years, maybe for hours. This is as brutal an end to a chapter as can be. I get to choose between worlds. Even though I can’t ever know which one is the best. (See, that’s why we need time machines)

I might not meet half the people I love at all in a few months, let alone years and maybe that would be alright. Maybe it won’t.  Maybe I’ll make it big, and maybe I won’t. Maybe my existence will determine the end of the world or maybe nothing beyond the death of a mouse. Anything can happen.

And I can never tell how much it all matters. Not really.

The future is an intimidating concept. It’s even more so when you love cramming your head with bizarre cosmic theories and then getting obsessed with them over tubs of ice cream and borderline delirium.

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