I was reading at
work today, a story called
All the Myriad Ways in this collection of short stories I have. It dealt with the whole "
alternate universe" thing and
suicide, and I got to thinking...(dangerous, I know)...If everytime a decision is made by anyone on the planet, the
universe splits so to speak...that means there must exist countless universes in which I've killed myself. Where I'm no longer around. Where I'd listened to that evil little girl in my head egging me on, "You stupid bitch, are you afraid? Are you too weak? Press
harder."
No. I don't believe in free will. When I look back I see how things couldn't be any way but the way they are now. (We are living in the best of all possible worlds? Not quite, love.) All the should've, could've, would've nonsense, it really doesn't get to me. I lament the fact, but even I can see that there was no way I would have made the other choice. Call it biology, call it fate, call it the culmination of a million random accidents clustered throughout the universe.
Serendipity. I hate the word.