[ WP ] In German it ’ s called doppelganger , a look-a-like . Literally a “ double-goer. ” I stared at the person in the newspaper article . Was it possible that he/she/it… .

As with every late night after I was finished at my office at MIT, I sat in the underground station in Kendall Square waiting for the Red Line to take me in through the city to my small apartment I shared with my girlfriend Dani in Dorchester. I sat there scanning through the articles of the abandoned pages of a morning commuter ’ s Globe, just the same as I had the night this all started. 
 
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 I remember it clearly, all those months ago. It all started with a picture of him in the newspaper. 
 
 It was MY idea, and HE is getting all the credit for it? Who does he think he is? I had done years of research, data analysis, and spent many late nights at the office reading white paper after white paper. Who was he to take credit for MY work? And they published an article about him for it? Where was MY recognition? 
 
 I pushed the remaining penne pasta around my bowl as I sat at the kitchen table recapping the horrible news I discovered on my commute home. My girlfriend was washing the dishes, facing away from me and silent other than the occasional clank of a pot on the side of the sink. After a long pause, she slowly said to me, “ Adam we need to talk about this… you are doing it again. ” 
 
 “ Doing what? ” I stuffed the last bit of pasta in my mouth. “ Oh- I almost forgot! I think I made a breakthrough on the reformulation of the Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture! It relates to how you resolve the ellipse- ” The pot crashing into the sink cut me off. She was angry again. 
 
 “ Adam, I can ’ t do this anymore. ” She turned to me, her eyes were red from crying already. “ You are not yourself anymore. ” 
 
 I blinked hard at her, something I often tried to do to snap my mind back to the present. For those with depersonalization like myself, it can be easy to graze through emotional events in life robotically. Numbers danced across my vision, but I knew I had to ignore their lure and focus on her. “ Not myself… ” I stood, blinking harder, trying to feel the ground under my feet. “ Baby, I… I haven ’ t been the same since that time I saw you with… with… ” I blinked furiously, there was sand in my eyes or something, and a tear began to roll down my cheek, “ with him. ” 
 
 “ There. Was. No. Him. Adam. There is NO HIM. ” She stood there, staring at me. Right, she was waiting for a response. 
 
 “ But I saw you two that night… we talked about this before. I am sure of it. ” 
 
 She stared at me amazed for the span of a breath then ran to the door and grabbed her keys, “ I can ’ t Adam. I am going to stay with my sister. ” She paused at the door and turned back at me, “ Please call your therapist. Please Adam. ” 
 
 I stood standing at the kitchen table, staring at the door which closed behind her. Five full minutes passed before the blinking worked and then all of the emotion hit me at once. Jesus Christ, why couldn ’ t I feel like a normal person? 
 
 Weeks passed. I saw my therapist, then another, and another. I couldn ’ t tell you how long it was. But my research consumed me. I hadn ’ t seen Dani in so long, I couldn ’ t picture her face. Then one day, I saw them together on the train after another long night at my office. I think it was them. I only saw their backs, but I quickly ducked behind the pillar of the station and was sure to board another train car. I didn ’ t sleep that night and a mixture of Dani ’ s face and numbers danced across my vision. Sometimes in number theory there was no rational solution. It seems to be the case with depersonalization as well. And with doomed relationships. 
 
 Not long after that, I put in my resignation at the lab. My mind wouldn ’ t focus anymore. I found myself staring at her facebook on my phone too often as I went to sleep. Weeks passed and I found another job, a normal 9-5. 
 
 Then months passed. 
 
 I don ’ t know how long it was really, or how many therapists later, but I found myself sitting at the station in Kendall Square once again, reading the discarded newspapers. Then I saw them walk by. It was her for sure, and she was with the imposter. If I could just get a look at his face. 
 
 This was it. I stood up, leaving the newspaper sitting on the bench. 
 
 This was it, it was finally here. I was finally going to confront this imposter in my life. He was right in front of me, walking smugly away from me, ignorant that I even existed. I reached out and grabbed him by his shoulder. 
 
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 Startled at what felt like a hand on my shoulder, I turned around to see that no one was there. I blinked furiously, trying to ground myself once again. I had felt myself sliding again. Of course there was no one there. I turned and smiled when I saw Dani frowning back at me, “ Sorry, I thought I saw someone I knew once. ” I took her by the arm and we climbed the stairs to the street above. 
 

