As I've grown older, one thing has become very obvious. Old pictures of me are a conspiracy. Those couldn't be me. They're some sort of alien, or robot, or clone. I refuse to believe I was ever that skinny, or narrow, or ... erm ... good looking. Okay, that last bit was actually true, but how is it possible I was ever that person? It just isn't possible. The only explanation is a goofy robot was put in my place, and I think I'm being generous.
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I do realize we change and grow and spread out, but sometimes it gets a bit ridiculous. I look at my wedding pictures and wonder who I'm looking at. Only my wife is recognizable. I don't know who the weird bloke is beside her. And, how dare he kiss my wife! Furthermore, why do I have a picture of him doing it?
Maybe it's an alien? Could be. I'm a bit foggy of that day's particular events. I truly only remember my wife's face. (Hint: that's a great brownie-point technique for when we men do something awfully wrong, like forgetting a birthday or not buying flowers for our anniversaries.)
So, by extension, I think it's safe to say we've been invaded by alien robots. Even worse, the conspiracy is they take our places in photos for the devious purpose of making us doubt our own existence. What could be more horrible? I think we need to round up all our old photos and burn them, yet can't quite get myself to doing it. It's possible it's not a conspiracy--
- M
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