My name does not matter. I am telling you

My name does not matter. I am telling you this because it's not important to know who told you first. The only thing that matters is what I say to you next. There are things

You need to do. First, sometimes it not worth getting your hand caught in the Pringles can for the broken chips. Next, fishfood is not a substitute for sushi. Third, never smell

like you've been swimming in raw sewage. People don't like that much. Fourth, get yourself a couple of two-by-fours and build a small hut in your back yard. Fifth, throw away

any residual capacity for love. There. He was free, in his small hut. The hut. He looked around and grinned, now he can finally live his dream. He picked up the Fender guitar

and picked out the tune to 'Old Love'. "I can see your face, but it's not real..." He sat in the doorway of his hut and sang his songs. Up in the sky an albatross flew carrying a

Found her address and looked it up on a map. It was 1000 miles away, so he mailed her a letter about how he found it. Olga wrote back, saying she had a duplicate of everything she

ever was, is, or will be. Strictly speaking, there are infinite copies. Olga's letter got him thinking. What if this Olga was only a copy? Did he want a copy? What if he's a copy?

What if every person in the world was just a copy? Nothing more but a recreation of something grand and divine, meaningless and weightless. It kept him up at night.

But his twin slept like a baby, slept the sleep of those knowing that they are unique in all the universe. It didn't matter if it was a lie. But it wasn't.