🪞 Another Me is Waiting

Describe your life in an alternate universe.

In an alternate universe, I live by the sea.

But I never write.

There’s no blog. No books. No carefully gathered words trying to capture the moment before it disappears.

Instead, I move with water.

I wake with the tide.

I work with my hands.

Healing others.

But never speaking too much.

Never needing to explain why I understand them without being told.

In that world, my gifts aren’t poetic. They’re instinctual.

I know where to press on someone’s back to release a decade of grief.

I know what herbs to boil to call the sleep back to someone who’s lost it.

I know how to carry pain without naming it.

There’s no applause there.

No metrics.

No fear of being misunderstood—because I never try to be understood.

And sometimes I envy her.

She doesn’t carry the ache of unread sentences.

She doesn’t watch words scatter like birds when emotion becomes too big to shape.

She doesn’t need to defend the invisible.

But I also wonder if she ever dreams in ink.

If she finds herself scribbling things in the sand just before the tide comes in.

If she whispers metaphors without knowing what they are.

If she stares at the horizon sometimes and feels like something on the other side is calling her name.

Maybe it’s me.

Maybe we pass each other in dreams—

Her feet bare on the shoreline.

My fingers tangled in a keyboard.

And both of us thinking:

“You chose the brave life.”

This reflection responds to the Daily Prompt:

“Describe your life in an alternate universe.”

And to the whisper underneath:

“What would you become if no one was watching?”

— from this side of the mirror, Hellènic Muse