The unfinished work of a 24 year old

The sprint was easier than the stroll but more tiring. For that span of time, cool breeze hushing past the ear, the entire concentration was on breathing, the throbbing heart, the knots forming in my calves. Standing now, breathless, stooping with arms resting on my knees, I had that old familiar feeling. Goosebumps! Someone is watching me, closely, intently, with purpose and without a break.

I looked from the corner of my eyes, still pretending to breathe heavily. No shadows creeping up, no silhouettes slipping away, no ghouls or zombies rushing in, a land of boredom for the paranoid. My phone is about to die. If it should die, it must do so on a high note. I wish I had some plastic pop songs on my phone. I slowly stood up straight, did a three sixty degree turn and started heading north. I had not yet decided if I was running from or to.

The map of events was vague. Something to do with being late. I have been carefully moving towards it, joining moments, events. It will sound crazy, but I am not, I am not crazy. I have been seeing the paths that I haven't walked. Let me try to clarify, I have been seeing myself experiencing the choices I did not make. This other me is a doctor, successful, well established, in love and about to kill himself.

I had a chat with him in the morning. I mean it, really. Hang on, back up, I have to tell you how. Otherwise none of this makes sense. I see him in reflections, not always, at times, although now a days we have longer moments, discussions spanning over hours. The first time I noticed it, I died, well almost. I was looking at me, I mean from the mirror at me and my lips were moving and a faint hum echoed, although I could feel my lips were not moving. I jumped back and closed my eyes. When I opened it, I was on the floor and so was I behind the mirror.