If I hadn’t met you, I’d probably be a wife and a mother by now.
I’d be sensible, responsible, and answerable.
I’d be a good woman, middle class in both my mannerism and thought.
I’d be less of a recluse, and not know how to rebel all the way.
I’d accommodate more. I’d compromise more.
I’d be less sarcastic, perhaps more optimistic.
I’d make plans, take vacations, or sit at home, but I’d never be alone.
I’d make mistakes and stupid decisions.
I’d think less, be less confused.
I’d follow the blueprint of a conventional, traditional life.
I’d post stories on social media, click photos with cherry blossoms, and put on display the joy a cheap cone of ice cream brought.
I’d walk on beaches, go on long drives, and arrange play dates for my kids.
I’d be more money minded and find joy in things that money could buy.
I’d live and lose for others, if only to compensate for my insecurities.
I’d never be brave enough or have the time to be myself.
I’d be like anyone else, ordinary.
If I hadn’t met you, I would’ve never met the me
I had always hoped I’d be.
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