The part of me I don’t see isn’t me. It’s in a file marked “Someone Else.” Yet it’s still here. When I’m out on the street it’s always coming towards me, irritating or scary or even something wonderful that I know can never be mine. I see it again and again, everywhere I go. Like Christopher Lee’s Dracula in the old movies—I’ve gotten rid of it once and for all so many times but it keeps coming back. What does it want with me?