Where Am I?

 

Yes, I know youth is not meant to last. It 

makes way for another generation. It is

nature's order that her guardian biology

looks after. My problem is not my missing

youth. It is me. Myself. Gone. Where, is

beyond me. The imposter that has taken my

place is not me. But whoever she is she has

captured my thoughts and her facade seems

an acceptable approximation to most others

who regard her and believe they see me there.

I am not she and she is not me. She is, you see

shorter than I am with more generous but

unappealing proportions. Her thickness appalls

me; what gives her the right to pose as me?

By what authority has she usurped my very

own presence? I would never have chosen

this strange woman's coarse features, her lank

dank hair, her incredulous look, much less 

her faulty hearing and eyesight. I must be 

somewhere. Out of sight. Out of mind.