I watched Sliding Doors today for the first time in maybe 20 years.

Whenever I revisit a movie that I haven’t seen in ages, it’s like a conduit opens across time, connecting this version of me to the one who watched before.

The film falls a bit flat now, but the concept dredged up a theory I used to think about often… a quiet way to cope with paths I took (or didn’t take).

The thought experiment starts with imagining that for each decision I’ve made, there’s a version of me who made the opposite choice.

Who went left where I went right.
Who followed the impulse I ignored.
And whose life is different because of it.

E.g., somewhere out there, there are versions of me who:

• Pursued a career in film after high school. He’s super into kombucha and his lovable beagle, Rodney.
• Became an astronomy hobbyist. He spends his summers under the stars, aiming to visit every U.S. national park by 50.
• Moved to the suburbs of Canada. He’s never listened to a podcast but he runs 10Ks a couple times a month and just hit a personal best.

It’s comforting, in a strange way, to think they’re all out there somewhere, living out the what-ifs. Not because I wish I’d made different choices, but because it makes my own path feel less narrow.

It makes me feel like I’m part of something bigger, like a thread in a tapestry. And in some intangible way, all these versions of me balance each other out.

But that leads me to the second part of the thought experiment:

I like to imagine that out of all those possible versions of myself… whether they’re chasing Oscars, starry skies, or just a faster mile… this is the life where I ended up happiest.

There’s solace in thinking that every what if would have led to a dead end… to something smaller, lonelier, a little less whole than the life I get to live.

current mood: contemplative

current music: cheekface – best life