Parallel Universes of the Self

IDENTITY

5 MIN READ

Somewhere, there is a version of you who said yes instead of no. Who took the risk. Or didn’t. Who left the job, moved to the city, had the one night stand. Somewhere, there’s a version of you who stayed. Another who fought. Another who surrendered. Every decision you’ve made has splintered your life into an infinite series of alternate realities, each one holding a different "you." And yet, here you are, in this version, reading this, wondering which of those selves is the real one.

But what if all of them are real?

Across the boundless, mind-bending expanse of the universe, the self feels tiny. A blip. Less than a particle of stardust floating in the dark. Yet, the choices you make—the ones that shape the person you see in the mirror — feel monumental, don’t they? As if the whole universe might collapse if you choose the wrong path. But here’s the secret: there is no wrong path. There’s only this one, the one you’re on. And that alone is enough.

Or is it?

I think about parallel universes often. Not in the sci-fi sense, but in the deeply personal one. I think about the person I could have become if I had loved less recklessly. Or more. If I had spoken up instead of staying silent. If I had chosen stability over chaos, or vice versa. Those versions of me — the ones I left behind with every pivot, every hesitation, every leap — they haunt me. Not because I regret who I am, but because I wonder: am I living the most authentic version of my life? Or did I leave that person behind in another timeline?

And then, late at night, a softer thought creeps in: perhaps the authentic self isn’t a destination at all. Perhaps it’s a spectrum, stretching endlessly across all the possibilities we’ve ever been and will ever be.

Think about it. Isn’t it strange how you can feel so certain of who you are in one moment, only to find yourself completely unrecognizable in the next? Maybe that’s because "you" are not a fixed point. You are a collection of contradictions, layered one on top of the other like galaxies stacked in a cosmic spiral.

The confident you. The insecure you. The angry, grieving, joyous, hopeful you. They’re all here, orbiting each other, colliding and merging and forming something entirely new, moment by moment.

And maybe the self isn’t about choosing which version of you is the real one. Maybe it’s about holding space for all of them. Because every choice you didn’t make still taught you something. Every life you didn’t live still shaped the one you’re living now.

In the end, we are all multiverses, aren’t we? We are endless possibilities crammed into finite moments. And just as the universe itself is still expanding, so are we.

So, if you’re wondering whether you’ve taken the right path, remember this: there’s a version of you in every direction. And each of them is a whole, complete, and beautiful reflection of the same stardust.

There is no wrong self.

There is only you.

Here.

Now.

And always.