Maximum Effort in the Wrong Timeline
I sometimes think the TVA accidentally dropped me into the wrong Florida timeline and forgot to come back for me.
That would honestly explain a lot.
It would explain the lawsuit, the chaos, the emotional whiplash, the feeling that my life keeps veering sideways right when it almost starts making sense again. It would explain why Deadpool has always felt less like a superhero to me and more like a survival strategy.
I live in Florida, which already feels like living inside a deleted Marvel timeline.
At any moment a man in flip flops can fight an alligator behind a gas station while lightning cracks sideways across the sky and nobody nearby even pauses their cigarette conversation long enough to acknowledge it.
So honestly, maybe it makes perfect sense that Deadpool became my favorite superhero.
Because I understand what it feels like to survive your life through humor, chaos, and sheer regeneration while constantly wondering if somewhere out there exists a version of reality where things unfolded differently.
I don’t I think I am Deadpool.
But I mean… if I suddenly started walking around Florida in a movie replica suit carrying katanas and arguing with invisible narrators like I am breaking the fourth wall, while eating gas station chimichangas, I would at least hope somebody close to me would lovingly tackle me into a lawn chair and tell me to calm the hell down. Even though that would be pretty dang Florida Epic at its finest let’s be real.
But I do understand the way he moves through life.
That constant feeling that the universe is both absurd and personal at the same time.
Like every beautiful thing comes wrapped in chaos.
Like timing itself is a villain.
Like somebody at the TVA keeps knocking coffee onto your timeline paperwork before your life can finalize correctly.
That part I understand deeply.
Because my life has always felt a little cinematic. Not in some mystical conspiracy way. More in a “Florida is already one step away from a comic book universe anyway” kind of way. Complete with Gator Jesus and her disciples and incredible discography.
Florida teaches you early that reality is flexible and a matter of perspective.
And maybe that’s why Deadpool makes sense to me here.
Underneath all the jokes and violence and chaos, Deadpool honestly feels like the patron saint of emotionally damaged concussed lesbians.
That’s the whole character when you strip everything else away.
And honestly?
That’s the part that gets me every single time.
Not the fighting.
Not the superheroes.
Not even the fourth-wall breaks.
Vanessa.
Or maybe more accurately:
the idea of Vanessa.
The person you feel certain exists for you somewhere in the universe even if life keeps rerouting the roads before you reach her.
That feeling of:
“I swear there’s a version of reality where we got this right.”
I think some people experience heartbreak like a clean break. A definitive ending.
I don’t.
Mine always feels multi-dimensional somehow.
Like parallel timelines brushing against each other for half a second before getting ripped apart again.
Like almost-recognitions.
Almost-being in sync.
Almost-connections.
Almost-home.
And every time you think you’re finally getting close, the TVA kicks open the door holding a clipboard saying:
“Sorry. Sacred timeline violation.”
Then suddenly your life veers sideways again.
That’s what Deadpool feels like to me.
Not invincibility.
Persistence.
Resilience.
Regeneration.
The kind where you keep rebuilding yourself after emotional wreckage even when you’re exhausted from regenerating.
And I think humor becomes part of that survival mechanism too.
That’s something people misunderstand about characters like Deadpool. The jokes aren’t there because life is easy. The jokes are there because the alternative is letting the darkness and voids swallow you whole.
Some people become stoic after pain.
Some become hardened.
Some disappear into themselves completely.
Some of us become funnier.
More chaotic.
Like if we keep making ourselves laugh maybe we can outrun whatever keeps trying to kill the softer parts of us.
That’s always been me.
Even as a kid.
Saturday mornings watching X-Men cartoons at my dad’s house. Riding bikes to gas stations with my brother to buy candy and comics and enough caffeine to probably stop a horse’s heart. Nowdays it’s sitting outside at a park as an adult in the heavy Florida heat reading books and Marvel comics while thunderstorms build in the distance like boss battles.
Back then I didn’t realize those stories were wiring themselves into me permanently.
But they were.
Especially the idea that people could survive becoming something different than what the world originally intended them to be.
That part stayed with me.
Because humans are shapeshifters too, in a way.
Not blue-skin mutant shapeshifters like Vanessa in the comics.
Real ones.
People evolve.
People fracture.
People reinvent themselves after loss.
People become unrecognizable versions of who they once were just trying to survive life.
And maybe that’s why the Vanessa storyline always mattered so much to me. (Even if the movies portrayed her inaccurately)
Because underneath all the mutations and regenerations, Deadpool never really stops trying to find their way back to the person who felt like home to them.
Even when timelines collapse in the comics.
Even when reality changes shape.
Even when Deadpool literally falls in love with Death herself.
And I understand that.
Probably more than I’d like to admit.
Because there’s a certain kind of loneliness that comes from feeling like your life almost aligned correctly once.
Like you briefly saw the right movie playing.
Then suddenly somebody changed the reel halfway through.
Still though, you keep searching.
You keep moving through the cosmic Florida chaos anyway.
You keep joking.
Keep loving.
Keep regenerating.
That’s the real superpower to me.
Not healing wounds instantly.
But surviving enough versions of yourself to still believe love might be waiting around the next corner of the timeline.
Even after everything.
Especially after everything.
Maximum effort.
P.S. Tucker and I feel that there should always be a Deadpool on a unicorn in some timeline of things.