Note to the Universe

Is there really any one way to live?
I think not.
I have been given two lives you see, both treacherous and dark.
The only difference is, only one of these both uneventful-and-yet-not-at-all lives has given me something to want to live for.
Both lives, she was there, unescapable in every sense of the word.
Both lives, we played roles so tightly woven into existence that we could never run from one another.
Both she and I never suspected it.
Neither of us believed that something so haunting as our past could be the cause of our presence.
And, in the presence of her, I have realized one thing:
Everyone is different. Everyone changes. Everyone lies. Everyone regrets.
With this frame of mind, I have also begun to make sense of the origin of life.
Life comes from you, not at you,
You have been told countless times before of your helplessness in the ways of the universe, so persistently, in fact, that it is woven into your being,
and therefore, may be one thing you'll never understand:
You are the universe.