The Proof Is Staring Me In The Face

In case you haven’t noticed, there is something very wrong with me…

I write this as a dire warning. Heed my words before it’s too late! There are more things at work on this planet than you realize. I wish someone had warned me; now I can only hope that my loss will be your gain. It’s too late for me, my friend, but you — you may be spared my fate.



Recently, I’ve noticed that things have been different. Sometimes subtle, but different, nonetheless. Initially I couldn’t put my finger on it. Now, however, I know the truth. I see that there is a conspiracy, perhaps even a nefarious master plan in the works, and I have irrefutable proof.

I’ve been duplicated and replaced by an alien intelligence far beyond our own. I am no longer human, but a pod person. Yup, just like Invasion Of The Body Snatchers. The original, mind you, as the three remakes are basically just pod movies.

I’m a copy. In fact, I’m an extremely bad copy. Heck, I’m practically a copy of a copy. Hollywood would have us believe that our would-be doppelgängers are evil, perfect replicas, stealing our lives and then settling into an unsuspecting community. Far from the truth, I don’t think that these aliens have quite perfected the process. I seem to be a failed experiment.

Take my hair, for example. My hair is dark brown. It says so on both my birth certificate and my driver’s license. But, for crying out loud, there it is in the mirror, streaked with gray. Damn aliens.

What’s left of my hair, that is. A bunch of it seems to have fallen out. The hair-line on this inferior double is much farther back than mine. Why couldn’t they get this right? I have pictures, you’d think that they would be smart enough to look at them. I’m looking at them right now, and the aliens really screwed-up my hair.

The skin is also all wrong. It doesn’t seem to have any elasticity. And there are all these lines in funny places – like a shirt that hasn’t been ironed properly. It’s definitely made of an inferior material than the original, like it was on sale at some alien Walmart.

Lastly, this alien model seems to have a hard time starting up in the morning. Maybe there’s some kind of charger that I’m supposed to be using. I stumble out of bed and look like some kind of old person, dragging myself around for at least ten minutes before all the systems seem to come on-line.

It infuriates me that the aliens that copied me seem to have no better skill than the Chinese companies that create knock-off iPods. I’ve been to my doctor, but I think he’s been replaced as well. He keeps telling me these things are normal, and prescribes medication. Pills for “high blood pressure” and “high cholesterol.” The original me never needed this stuff. And don’t think that I haven’t noticed his hairline is receding as well, proof positive that this man is also a forgery, just like me.

You may think that I’m insane. But I’m telling you it’s true. I know myself like the back of my hand, and now, I swear, that’s not the back of my hand.

I’ve seen the truth, but now its too late. I’ve already been replaced, you see. The things I wanted to do, the things I wanted to accomplish are no longer within the abilities of this cheap knock-off. How much longer will this worn-out version even last? I’ve run out of time. But you, my friend — you can take action now! Take those leaps of faith, do the things of your dreams. Be that person you want to be, right now! Because if you don’t, one day you may also find yourself replaced, staring at a pale copy of the original in the mirror.

Don’t say that I didn’t warn you…

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