Who knows

if the stories we make-up about ourselves

and other people

are true.

I have one of those faces,

that looks like other faces, and when someone tells me

that I look like so and so,

they say, “but you are so much more handsome.”

My mortal enemy in high school looked like me,

and I thought he was ugly.

He had bad hygiene

and he was mean.

It was horrible

when acquaintances called me by his last name: Brumfield

They got my first name right: Andy

but I was now a hybrid asshole.

I dreamt of fighting him in my dreams

and rearranging his face

so he didn’t look like me.

I switched high schools to get away from him

and

there was another guy

who looked like me. His name was Eric Shover

His face looked like a vacuum cleaner

and they called me his little brother.

I tried to stay away from him.

When I graduated,

I began working in an elementary

and the band teacher looked like me:

“Mr. Haver… Mr. Haver… Are you okay? You look angry. Wait, you’re not him.”

Fast forward to my present job

and the principal’s pet looks like me.

“A lady thought I had evaluated her kid,” he said. “But then I told her, that I’m not you.”

“I can’t walk through the building, without children screaming your name,” I said.

We had a good laugh about it,

and then I went back to my office,

and thought about killing him.