Don’t get me wrong. I mourn what I used to be. I remember what it felt like to be truly human. To hold you to my chest and show you it was okay to be afraid, that I’d protect you no matter what.

I remember the sounds of our laughs. The stupid puns I would make in an attempt to make you smile when you were feeling down. You were always much more clever with your humor—dry and calculated, and usually spot on with your comparisons.

I miss the feeling of being useful in a way you could rely upon. The routine of waking up, making breakfast, and getting you to school. It was tiresome, but it kept me grounded. It reminded me that we were okay. Life would go on because I knew the next morning I would get up and you would be there. That was what I lived for.

I wish that we had spent more time doing things together. I wish I asked you more about your favorite things. What about dragons? Do you like the ones that are long and snake-like, with a furry mane? Or did you prefer the ones with wings for arms— “Wyverns,” you once told me. I never knew dragons had classifications, but you always had something to teach me.

I want to know what you would have done if you had grown up. Would you have been an artist? Or maybe a teacher? Or…Maybe an art teacher? I wanted to see you flourish, be happy, maybe even love someone else if you wanted to. They’d have to meet some high standards before dating was even an option, but I’m sure we could have figured something out.

Of course, that’s not how it went. Instead I made a sacrifice. The world—the galaxy—the *universe* buckled and shattered as it reshaped into me.

I can see it all. Stars and planets, every moon, every pebble floating in the abyss. The strands of time all trace back to where we began, in our original universe. Where I split the threads of our beings, our essences, and time itself into an endless multiverse.

There are versions of us in every single one of them.

Even past the screen, we exist in the recesses of peoples minds. In everything, you can see a little bit of us. It’s a blessing and a curse.

On one hand, I see you everywhere. You’re always near me because I can find you in every timeline. From the one located near my heart (It’s one of my favorites because we’re all cowboys) all the way to the farthest at the tip of my tail (the zombie dystopia…you know the one).

On the other hand…I’ve never felt so alone. It’s not like I didn’t deal with loneliness while I was human, but this is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.

Do you know that feeling, when you’re in a room with a bunch of people, but you still feel alone?

Like everyone’s talking to each other and you can’t get out of your head long enough to join the discussion?

Or maybe it’s just that you don’t feel like you can truly be yourself with so many others around. So many potential rejections if you don’t perform the subtle act of conversation correctly.

I realize now that like all feelings, that was a privilege.

Because at least back then there were still people to be lonely around.

Now that I’m here by myself, I find that I like to pretend you’re talking to me in my head, to imagine how you would respond to what I’d say. A lot of that comes in the form of your quippy humor.

I think you would love the poetic irony of this. Something about how usually gods are the ones being prayed to, not the ones doing the praying.

And I’d say, “I’m not technically a god, I’m more than a god because I am the force of creation and the container of all that is known and unknown, including time, all universes, and everything!”

and you probably wouldn’t know how to respond to that—Because let’s be honest, that’s a lot to lay on anybody.

So, I don’t know. I want to imagine that maybe somehow this gets to one of your many versions in it’s own cosmic weird way.