Hugh Everett told me that
Every time there is a possibility of two different outcomes
Paper or plastic
wheat or white

tea or coffee
They both happen, even before the decision is made
And every outcome exists in its own branch of time-history

its own universe
Which are all equally real
But do not interact with each other.

Before you open up the box
The sweater is both blue and red
the ring both diamond and ruby
the cat both alive and dead
So that every choice you
or your neighbor
or God
or fate ever made
Has brought our world into the specific branch of time-history which we call our own,

And every thing that every one decided not to do
Has initiated its own unique strain of time-history
So that every unobserved possibility of the past
Resonates into an infinite number of unobservable presents and futures.

The beautiful thing of it is
When for every decision you ever make
there is another you making the very opposite one
The things that we do are a bit less consequential
And even who does them no longer seems to matter
Because you know that in some version of our universe
you are finally getting everything right.
But
When the wave functions cease to collapse and time begins to blur
You simultaneously realize that our version of the universe
Is the only one that you
and all those whom you love

and all those whom no one loves
Will ever see
And all those decisions
Become so clear
so sharp
That you can see the future in its brightest and most perfect form
And it will never fade away.