I’ve always liked the concept of there being multiple universes. There’s a version of me out there where I’m doing better than I am now, I am capable of doing better. But there’s also a universe where I have tremendously ed up. And in a way that’s comforting. Because I could’ve ended up like that, but I didn’t. I made some of the right choices. But then I remember that there’s a version of me that never met the other members of Bangtan. Never even started music. I’d just be a ty person who hates their job and life. And I still wouldn’t have any best friends. But then I like to think that we would’ve met anyway, through something else. I like to think that Bangtan can’t not happen. I don’t like the idea that there’s a set of choices where I don’t meet them. There’s the initial comfort when thinking about multiple universes, thinking about what could’ve been. But then you think about that one person, or thing that’s in your life that you can’t bear to imagine not being there. And then I start thinking about if I’m anyone’s ‘I don’t want to think about my life without you thing’. I want to know if I’m someone’s thing. Or if I’m just a possible choice, path they could’ve taken. And maybe they think that it wouldn’t have been the end of his world if he didn’t make the choices that put him on the Yoongi Path. I have a habit of overthinking things. It’s probably not the best thing ever. Thoughts that started out as nice, comforting, quickly spiral down into the worst case scenario and how irrelevant you are in others lives, especially when they are the center of yours. My mind is weird. Most of the time it feels like a war zone and when I suggest that my thoughts make a truce they laugh and make the violence worse. I saw a quote a while ago that said “I tried to write down what I’m feeling, but the paper stayed blank, and in a way that was the best way of explaining it” and I relate to that so much. I try to write my thoughts and feelings down on this page. I try to map out my mind for others, put it into a song, some lyrics. And to some degree it works, the metaphors I give people help them understand. A little. For a couple of minutes. But my mind remains mostly uncharted territory that no one quite understands. Not them. Not even me. And it makes me want to scream. Because I’m a literary person and I live for quotes and metaphors that sum up my life. I ache to be understood. And I know that you can never truly, fully understand another person. But there must be understanding better than this. Even I don’t understand me. My thoughts. Feelings. How I function. And that’s scary. Because if I have no understanding of myself then I have no control over my thoughts. The screaming continues. The ceasefire doesn’t happen. My thoughts can still kill me from the inside out. No control. None. And I hate it I hate it I hate it. I almost just want to put my brain into someone else’s so they can understand, fully, what I’m saying. But they’d cry if they was forced to walk inside my mind. It would break them. Because this pure hatred of myself crept up on me. And I’m used to it. And it would be such a shock to his system.

But maybe then they would understand my fear that there’s another universe where they think of me the way I think about myself.

And they might understand why I ache so much just to be understood.

Maybe there’s a universe where you can fully know a person.

Maybe.

Possibly.

It’s probably just insane and impossible.

But you won’t understand that. Will you?