"It's a step in the right direction," I'd say softly to myself as I walked. And it would be true, to a certain extent. But then again, isn't everything a step in the right direction as long as it's some direction other than none at all?

Yes, I was confusing myself with the intricacies of nonexistant issues and claims of impotence. I had a pewter watch on the dresser beside my bed, but I never looked inside of it. I was told when it was given to me that it contained a photograph of my late grandfather before he went insane, but somehow I just wasn't interested. I was told that I was the spitting image of him, but I still refused. It made me nervous to consider that my future had already played itself out in front of me two generations before. Was I nothing more than a reincarnation of my grandfather?

Preposterous. He was still alive when I was born. How can anyone be a reincarnation of an already living person? Does it count if they're insane, though? Do they truly exist when their mind has stopped functioning? In which case, do I truly exist?

© J. Bernhard

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