What If We Had Met In Another Lifetime?

If we had met in another lifetime, I would’ve been taller. I would’ve been less afraid of the sun stroking my skin. I would’ve been caring of myself from the get-go.

I would’ve had a prettier face, fuller lips, thicker thighs. I would’ve had less shitty tattoos done out of impulsiveness. I would’ve had smiled for the right reasons.

If we had met in another lifetime, I would not have made the same mistakes. I would not have cut my hair as a symbol of defiance against some dumb boy. I would not have quit school twice. I would’ve known which friends to make and which ones to avoid. I would’ve known the correct answers to all the wrong questions. I would’ve known which ones I should’ve asked.

If we had met in another lifetime, I would’ve known which steps to take in life. I would’ve known although he was not my father, it felt the same when his fist collided with my face, when his fingers tore off tufts of my hair. I would’ve known this was not love. I would’ve never called it love in the first place. I would’ve kept this a secret instead of confessing it to parrot ears.

If we had met in another lifetime, you would’ve been shorter. You would’ve been less pale, less skinny, less serious. You would’ve let me be free. You would’ve known leaving doesn’t mean goodbye. You would’ve had the foresight to realize I was tired of running, but I was sick of being caged.

And you would’ve been wiser. You would’ve been eager to trust with your heart wide open. You would’ve been more brave. Just a little bit. Just enough to have the guts to stay.

If we had met in another lifetime, we would’ve been better versions of ourselves – the versions who would’ve stuck around the naked morning after – minus the screw ups, minus the wrong turns, minus the oversights. Things would’ve been different. Things would’ve fallen in place.

But if we had met in another lifetime, I would not be me and you would not be you.

If we had met in another life time, it wouldn’t have been as special.