As I stood amid the tattered tomes.
One question filled my mind.
I’d walked this road a million times…
Had I gone fucking blind?
A library of absurd proportions….
Shelves of books in strange contortions.
Something in my head screamed “CAUTION”.
Reason: undefined.
And as I traced the weathered spines.
I ambled deeper in.
Each binding seemingly unmarked.
What secrets lay within?
So, I stopped.
Switched off the autopilot I’d found myself on for most of my life.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out, right?, I told myself.
But… something didn’t seem right here. Well, something wasn’t right here. Libraries don’t just manifest, idiot. There’s no rhyme to the rhythm of whatever the fuck seems to be happening right now.
I peeled a book at random off the shelf. They all looked the same anyway.
Half-expecting to have to blow off dust once I cracked it open, I was surprised to find crisply-printed pages inside…
Despite them being blank. Weird.
I flipped backwards through the book, and was met around one-third of the way through with a wall of text, which seemed to stop mid-way, unfinished through the page.
A quick, cursory scan told me that this was the tale of a man, who lived in some form of log cabin he had built in a forest. A dream of mine. How lovely.
I seem to have arrived at the part in the story where his beloved pet dog had passed away, and as he was hewing wood for I guess whatever home improvement he had been building prior. But now, the loneliness had set in.
What was once a romantic idea for this character–disappearing into the wilderness with his best friend, was steadily crumbling around him as he realized that for all he had built, he now had nobody to share it with, so it all became worthless.
And his name was… huh. The same as mine. Strange.
I placed the book back on the shelf and withdrew its neighbor, unremarkable book number two.
Again, only partially completed.
This one appeared to be about a high-flying tech entrepreneur. A right place, right time kind of success story. Who despite all his fame and fortune was smothered with the stress of keeping up appearances.
Vapid ‘friendships’ plagued this man, who’d move away from those he loved in search of success–pouring his heart, soul and youth into an empire built on guile and greed until he had everything… and at the same time, nothing.
He also had the same name as me. Again. Hmm.
Sensing a pattern, I folded the book under my arm and pulled out another.
It was about a sailor, barely afloat financially–dashing all hopes of ever being able to realize his life goal of setting out on the seven seas in his bootstrapped monohull boat.
Same name.
Another book.
One-hit-wonder musician who’s sick of his own music. Resents his audience.
Same name.
Another book.
New York fashionista. Riddled with self-image issues.
Same name.
Another book.
Another book.
Another book.
My head spun. Who were all these versions of me? Who wrote these? What’s hap–
“Are you jealous now?”
A whisper. Directly into my ear.
A rapid pulse rose to my throat.
My lungs drew ragged breaths.
What the fuck is happening?
I’m well outside my depth.
Did that voice seem familiar?
The one that keeps me up at night?
Who makes me toss and turn and reel.
With existential fright.
My autopilot now back on.
Screamed “fight or fucking fly”.
So I made the simplest choice I could.
To get the fuck outside.
And as my legs kicked into gear.
The exit signage drawing nearer.
Body filled with primal fear.
My heartbeat pumping in my ears.
I thought of all those I held dear.
My girlfriend, cats, my friends, my peers.
The moments that all led me here.
What once was dull I now saw clear.
And as I burst into the street…
A calmness filled my mind.
The grass no longer seemed so green.
In lives I left behind.