Alternate Universes

I was supposed to be named Amina
After a dream my mother had once
Calling out to me, Amina.

I think about this often.
Amina feels almost foreign on my tongue–
Ahh-minn-uhh.

Amina is loud.
She speaks well and her palms
Never sweat when someone asks her a question.

She’s got good posture.
Her back never aches
From long hours curled over a keyboard.

I see her everywhere.
In good outfits
And successes.

Being everything that I’ll never be.

But there’s this other thing.
Amina doesn’t know how to keep going after
Sending a text to the group chat instead of to your best friend.

She’ll never know how to laugh
When she’s got sand in her nails
And salt in her hair.

I am everything that Amina will never be.

And if I ever meet her
I’ll tell her it’s okay
To slouch
And breathe
Just for a little while.