Every now and again, I stop thinking about the universe we live in, and I picture another one where you and I actually made it. I picture you and I didn’t let circumstances prevent something that I saw as potential magic, that we gave us a shot.

I picture us six months in, lying on my couch watching movies I’ve never seen. We’d probably make a list and never finish it, because there will always be new ones to add, but we would try our best anyway. We’d try watching the movie and talking about it after-because conversations about anything with you were always my favorite- or we honestly would just find each other’s lips in the dimly lit room, and make an excuse to watch it later on.

I picture us meeting the rest of the other’s families. I’d meet yours and see the people who helped make you who you are. You would see the craziness that is my own. They are loud and excitable, but filled with love and an endless supply of humor. You would probably remain quiet, and I would deflect the jokes away from you and me. We would get asked at least 4 times that night when we were getting married, and though we would both tense up and laugh awkwardly over it, it wouldn’t seem so insane to think about one day…just not that day.

I picture us having deep conversations. You’d talk about your issues and deep rooted fears and what kind of effect they had on your life in the past and even now. I’d talk about how I’m still nervous I’m not good enough and that I’m trying to not need as much validation from everyone else around me.

We’d shed our insecurities in front of each other and it wouldn’t be scary — it would be easy, because things were always so easy with you.

We would pry back those hidden spaces; you would open up and let me in to those dark corners where you would rather hide and I would let you into the places I don’t show to other people, because we know that we are safe with each other.

I picture us doing the things we love most, the things that make our faces light up in a way nothing else does. I picture us doing those things together, sharing those recollections to look back on. Side by side, happy that in this moment, being grateful that it’s you I’m standing next to, that it’s you I’m sharing memories with. That you’re someone I’m making memories with.

I picture that after a long day, I come home to you, lay in your arms, and just resting in complete silence. Because as much as I always love talking to you, the silence is just as wonderful. We would just rest and let the world keep moving outside our window while we settled into the night and let our minds wander but our hands find their security in the other’s.

I picture us both doing the things we love and we support each other whole-heartedly. I cheer you on and you encourage me. We let our passions intertwine but we don’t tell the other how to do what they are talented at.

We just do it, and we are proud to stand by the other one and pushing each other to be better than we ever thought possible.

Yet, honestly, I know things wouldn’t always be that lovely. I know that reality means things don’t always pan out in the rosy, romantic comedy, movie way we often imagine. I know some days would look more like this:

I picture us having more than one miscommunication. You overthink and I over-feel. We don’t see eye to eye, even when we desperately want to. There are days when you think I’m too sensitive and times where I don’t understand why you’re so stuck in your mind. There are times where I have trouble making decisions and you will probably be more than a little frustrated, not understanding why I make 30 options appear when at least 28 of them aren’t even plausible.

I picture some days of us being boring and being completely uninteresting. We don’t cuddle up to each other, we keep our space. Not because we are upset, but simply because we both enjoy having places of our own. Because we understand how important it is to have that space.

We wonder sometimes if we should be doing something more exciting, and we doubt ourselves more than once.

I picture us starting this relationship, and you hesitate when things get serious, because you’ve never liked commitment. It’s something you’re afraid of. I picture myself growing frustrated with you and wanting to look elsewhere to find the commitment I’m terrified of but know I need. I hate conflict, so I would probably brush it under the rug, being afraid I’d lose you, until I couldn’t handle it anymore, until I finally had to let out everything in my head.

I picture that sometimes we may wonder if we did the right thing by giving us a shot. We might second guess and think, “What if we had just let this go?”

And you know what’s crazy? I’d still pick that universe.

I’d pick it one thousand times over this one, the one where we think about it, but never actually do it. The one where I sit here wondering if you think of me or if you don’t.

I’d pick you. I think when it’s all said and done, if given the chance, I’d always pick you.