Poetry

acatalepsy

Artwork by Vaishali Soni

There are no signs from the universe.

Nothing that will help you make the toughest decisions of your life.

Nothing that you can rely on to choose the right thing.

Because ultimately, you are the one who decides whether a tiny rock or a wilted flower is ‘a sign from the universe’.

There are no signs from the universe that will tell you whether you should skip the day

or which outfit would work for a Saturday night

or whether you should carry your umbrella today.

And there are especially no signs that could possibly tell you that you’ve met ‘the one’.

The one that you should spend your life with and bicker over ice-cream flavours and sing love songs off tune and visit places that are just right for Instagram.

The universe tells you nothing.

But when I first laid my eyes upon her left shoulder

and saw a tiny, black mole

all this logic was gone.

Because in that moment, I truly hoped

that the universe was giving me a sign – a sign shaped like a minuscule puddle – that she’s the one,

she’s the one who makes the universe break its own rules.

This story was about: Gender Identities Pride Sexuality

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