The Odds.

Wed, 11/08/2017 - 01:25 -- J_Val13

Approximately, there’s a 1 chance in 10^390 (it’s in scientific notation, and it happens to be quite the number, biggest number here actually.) of life on earth, it is so near to impossible that it would never happen in the 13 billion years or so since the universe took shape. The probability of us being born is 1 to 400 trillion. The probability of your parents meeting is 1 in 20,000 (of course in total between 2 people it would be 2 to 40,000 if we’re speaking of both our parents, but let’s keep things simple.) Roughly altogether there’s about 1,250,000 different ways to die on any given day. Finding your soulmate is 1 in 10,000. Which means that the chances of me meeting you before death are roughly 1 to way over 400,100,250,030,000. When I say “way over” I mean A LOT more. Remember you’d still have to add the 10^390, but I digress. So, the brain, again roughly, has about 20,000 to 70,000 thoughts a day with the high possibility of that number going up to over 600,000. Our new number is now 400,100,250,630,000 + 10^390. With the calculator I have alone, I cannot calculate that number, because for this number “massive” is an understatement. Now picture an odd of 1 to our incredible number. Those odds, are the odds of me meeting you behind that damn locker room in middle school, us becoming best friends, us keeping in contact, me falling in love with you, and you tearing my fucking heart apart. Princess, I hope you know that the odds of me dying were higher than the odds of me meeting you and breathing in your soul made of pure euphoria. I had a better chance of never existing than locking eyes with you. And out of my 600,000 thoughts a day, you still seem to be every single one of them. But hey, what are the fucking odds, right? 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Pansyish

I absolutely love this poem, your raw emotion clearly shows and the thought process of using calculation to get your point across is something to be admired.

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