I don’t like myself.

I am unbearable, hard-headed, opinionated, and arrogant. Sometimes I am just a troublemaker.

I know this not from self-discovery, but from something less subjective.

Two months ago, I came home from a day spent with friends, watching a full solar eclipse. The eclipse was spectacular! Seeing the sun disappear, hearing the birds go quiet, and feeling the drop in temperature was surreal. I removed my goggles and enjoyed the midday darkness for a few seconds before the sun started to reappear, and blinded me for a moment. I shut my eyes, put my goggles back on, and when I opened my eyes again, I saw two eclipsed suns. I blinked, and the two suns merged. Then, I passed out.

I wasn’t unconscious for long, maybe a few heartbeats. Nobody noticed. We were all using reclining camping chairs, so I didn’t fall; I just slumped. Besides, Adam and Pete were enthralled by the cosmic event unfolding above them.

I could feel a migraine coming on, made my excuses and headed home.

***

I was in the kitchen, making a sandwich, when I arrived home. I knew it was me. Not so much the fact that I was looking at a perfect copy of myself, down to the clothes I was wearing, but because of the connection we both felt. I felt the knife in my other self’s hand; I could taste the peanut butter we had just licked off a thumb. His eyes told me he must have felt my experience right at that moment: confusion, curiosity, and my desire for the toasted peanut butter and honey bagel on the counter.

‘I am making two, ’ he said.

‘I always do, ’ I answered.

A subtle but strange understanding dawned, magnified by the other’s experience of it. So this is what others see when they look at me.

***

‘Looking good, man, ’ he said as he pushed the bagel towards me on a napkin. He smiled when the toaster popped the second bagel. ‘I need to whiten my teeth, ’ I thought. He closed his mouth and ran his tongue over his front teeth. I do that sometimes, looking for that slightly woolly feeling you get when you forgot to brush.

‘Don’t wait on me, ’ he said, retrieving the toasted bagel. ‘I like these when they are hot, ’ I said automatically, and he nodded knowingly. I almost always eat the first bagel while preparing the second. This will be one of those times.

***

I ate the bagel while watching him make the other. I approved of his efficiency, and smiled with my mouth full when he immediately cleaned the spreading knife when he was done with it.

It was like looking in a mirror, but not quite the same. He was not a mirror image, but physically facing me, across the kitchen island where I sat on a bar stool. If this were a mirror, I would be seeing myself enjoying one of the best sandwiches in the world; instead, I was watching myself getting ready to do so.

His right side was on the same side as my left, unlike a mirror, which simply reflects things back, inverting left and right.

‘That was good thanks,’ I said, now needing coffee. ‘Coffee?’, I asked. ‘You know it!’ he said between bites. I noticed that I eat fast. I have to do something about it. I stored that for later contemplating and used the Keurig to make two cups of extra dark roast.

***

The coffee is never drunk immediately. It is simply too hot. I usually clean the counter and store everything while I wait for it to go from scalding to merely hot.

The two of us worked together, never reaching for the same thing, but moving as if the scene were choreographed and practiced beforehand.

I talked to myself. We both spoke to ourselves. At first, the words came easily, just as they do when I have these conversations with myself in my head.

I am hard on myself, and it was not long before he criticized how I organize the refrigerator. I took it personally. I spent days, maybe weeks, organizing my kitchen when I moved into this house over a decade ago. I responded in kind, commenting that he is doing the dishes wrong. I have a particular way of doing this task, and he seems to have no plan.

As the night progressed, we became more at odds. He was cocksure and inflexible, and I recognized these traits in myself. It occurred to me that as time passed, we were diverging. He became a different person, someone I no longer liked.

He felt the same.

***

I knew that he was planning to replace me, take over my life. He knew everything about me, all my passwords, my friends, and colleagues. He can literally just step into my clothes and live my life.

There was no way I was going to let that happen. I worked hard for what I have, and I would die before someone who came into this world just hours ago takes that from me.

He had to die.

He came to the same conclusion at the exact moment.

***

We fought for my life.

He was a copy of the past me, and we both had the same skills. Twelve years of kickboxing and jiu-jitsu taught me a lot, but we were evenly matched. When I threw a jab, he did the same; when I kicked him, he did the same. Our battle was awkward and comical at first, and then he started moving on his own accord.

He was becoming a different person right before my eyes. A person who looks and sounds like me, but is not me! This realization severed whatever connection we had, and again, his eyes told me when he realized that, too.

He grabbed a knife from the butcher block and lunged at me. I managed to hold his wrist and fell backwards, pulling him towards me and catching his hips with my feet, kicking him over my head. As he flew over me, I rolled backward over my shoulders and ended up in a full mount. I instinctively flattened myself on top of him to prevent him from bucking me off.

The knife was still between us, and it passed between his ribs, puncturing his heart. I did not realize this at first, digging my heels into his hips so I could apply more pressure on his chest.

I knew when he died. My vision blurred, and the couch seemed to become a twin for a few seconds before returning to its original form. I did not move and kept my position for a while, wanting to make sure he was done.

It was hard fighting myself, and I don’t want to do that again.

***

I sat up, exhausted, but somehow feeling whole. The migraine that announced itself earlier that day was gone, and I wanted a second bagel.

I knew my life as it were, was over when he asked, ‘What are we going to do with that?’

He was referring to his corpse, and he was in my head. I could feel him behind my eyes. He was me, but just different enough to be known, like a lump you feel in your neck. Once you become aware of it, it is impossible to ignore.

***

This is how I found myself and learned who I really am.

After weeks of struggle and strife, alienating my friends, losing my job, and getting arrested twice for shit he caused, we finally came to an agreement.

The days are mine, and he can have nights. We will eat breakfast and dinner together, using this time as a handoff meeting.

I can not stand myself, and I am pretty sure he hates me.

Until I can get rid of him for good, this shitty existence will have to do.

I know he feels the same.

The fucker talks in his sleep.