Isn’t it terrible that two tiny letters can make a word which can be so awful?
It hasn’t happened yet.
There are conditions.
If means something is missing.
Sometimes an if is almost insignificant.
If the phone rings, don’t answer it.
If you see my sister, say hello.
These are the ifs that won’t change your life.
But sometimes the ifs can signify an absence of heartbreaking proportions.
If you were here right now, I would kiss you.
If we lived in the same country, we would be in love.
And sometimes, if is an unknown so terrifying it keeps you up at night.
If my dad dies, everything I know is gone.
If she leaves me, how will I pick up the pieces of myself?
And because it’s so tiny, there are always too many ifs at once,
defining a whole year and replacing the best bits of life with uncertainty.
The ifs creep up on you without making a sound, and like any small pest,
they’re hard to get rid of.
All if does is leave me wondering.
I prefer words that are certain. Because
if I could be sure of anything, I wouldn’t be so afraid.