Evening when I was writing after work, something happened. A doppelganger of myself popped up right beside me.
POP!
It actually sounded like that. I jumped/swore/and fell off the couch. He/Me/I/It was wearing the same clothing as I was. I fell on my ass and rubbed my eyes with the heel of my palms.
He/Me/I/It sat there, looking just as shocked as I was.
I and He/Me/I/It both said at the same time, "What the fuck?"
And then we fainted.
That was a long time ago. Now were the best of friends. We're the reason that we don't return your phone calls, why we avoid certain events, why we procrastinate to points of complete, illogical explanation - it's because we're just so fucking cool. We make ourselves laugh, we tell dumb jokes, trade books, comic books, read passages of poetry to each other - we start to write things but usually end up getting distracted and end up doing something else completely different. One night may start with us making Zucchini bread and then an hour later we're acting out scenes from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. Do laundry and end up weeding in the garden. Want to take naps but end up arm-wrestling instead.
We have fun, and lots of it. I don't even know what I would do if I didn't have He/Me/I/It in my life - but there's one thing that we are extremely focused on. One thing that we fear and slightly tremble at the notion of...
We're afraid of the "Un-POP". We've talked about it. We hope to God that it never happens.
That ONE evening, fooling around after work, the doppelganger of ourselves will disappear.
POP!
Just like that. And it'll be done. No more. No Best friend, confidant, go-to-guy. Done, finished, fini.
All alone. Just with ourself.
Just......ONE.
