I am who heroes have called The Dopleganger. At a time all too long ago I was given the ability to change into any being living. I would become them. I would learn their thoughts, passions, desires, fears. I would become like them but not them at all. My own psyche still existed in every form, allowing me inhumanly freedoms. This was ages ago. Since then I have... lost myself. It seems that I changed form so many times that I forgot who I once was. Sometimes I stare at people on the street and wonder if each one was once my wife, girlfriend, daughter, or mother. Men become best friends or fathers. Sometimes they become lovers too. I think I was once male. I'm not sure of it but it's the only thing that rings true. What was my name? Did I ever have one? Why not just change back to myself you might ask. The answer being a simple one. I've never had that ability. It was one thing to loose my body but now I've lost my mind.

I spot a hansom man at a grocery store. Being envious, I become him. The tricky thing about becoming a person is not to be seen by them or with them. I exit the store hastily and head toward the hansom man's home. It would seem his bikini model girlfriend is waiting for her chocolate Hagen Daaz. She greets me at the door with a big kiss. She believes that I've lost my keys for why would this good man lie to her.

I'm sorry honey but they were out of Hagen Daaz. I would have gone to another store but I just had to get back to you.

Again I am kissed for my efforts. The passion starts to swell when she stop us from going further. She's made up her mind and yes she'll marry me. My reaction isn't what she expected. Riddled with guilt I try to reassure her that I am just overwhelmed.

I'll be right back with your Hagen Daaz honey. I just can't believe my ears. Please tell me again when I get back.

I head to the elevator. This is when I make a shape-shifter faux pas. My hansom host sees me for a split second and is frozen in his tracks. I slip behind him and change into a man I saw earlier. The hansom man spins.

Sorry, I thought... you were someone else.

I pause.

Happens to me all the time.

My new form is fat and breaths heavy. He stinks of unwashed flesh and has thoughts that make my mind feel dirty. Fired from his job he has let himself go. He plans to murder his boss and as many coworkers as he can. The forgotten hero in me awakens in a rare glimpse. Apparently I still know right from wrong. The fat man isn't from the city and wasn't heading home at the time of my change. The main limitation to my power is that although I have all of my hosts memories, at the point of transmogrification I am disconnected from their present thought process. This man could be anywhere by now. I start by going down the block to see if he is still in the area. I ask a few perplexed vendors if they've seen me before and if so what direction was I headed in. Getting nowhere I decide to head our obese murderer off at the pass. I catch a crosstown bus hoping that it's not too late. I run off the bus out of breath after ten steps, fighting the urge for a unfiltered cigarette. Transformation is always fascinating no matter what some might tell you. There are few experiences that can rival the duplicity of being in a place a thousand times and for the first all at once. At the security desk I meet up with an old friend. An old friend of the Fat Man that is.

Hey Albert, how did you get down here? He asks me.

My heart stops for a beat when I realize that I'm too late. Shots ring through out the building. I head for the elevator and plead for the security guard to call the police. I urgently press buttons. When I arrive there is already blood on the floor. It's coming from the head of Trudi Schumacher, the bitch secretary who laughed when I asked her out... In the intensity of the moment I get lost in his thoughts. More shots ring out. There are screams coming from all directions. I turn the corner wheezing and in a cold sweat. My host self is standing there over a man on his knees. The man is pleading for his life. His pleas fall silent as he is shot execution style to the temple.

No! I scream.

The fat man turns his head and sees me. I am almost shot for my efforts. In my great rush to stop him I realized that I had no contingency plan. Now what? They say if you walk far enough you will eventually meet yourself. It's an age old proverb. What the proverb doesn't tell you is that the human mind isn't equipped to so literally meet it's self. The fat man snaps. He puts the gun up to his head and pulls the trigger. I can't stop him in time. I can't emulate the dead only the living. Should he die I might cease to exist. In a panic I search for a new host. The floor is deserted so I head for the elevator. As the car reaches my floor I am met by my security guard friend and the police.

There he is officers! He yells.

I am tackled and stun gunned.

No wait! You have the wrong man! Please! My... brother is in there dying!

A police officer runs to investigate. He yells back. He's not going to make it. In my desperation I transform into the officer in the other room. My transformation causes panic. The security guard vomits. The remaining officers let go of me as if I had plague. I'm able to run to an exit and make my escape. Half way down the stairs I rest. Finally able to concentrate I become the Haagen Daaz loving girlfriend. I am in love and miss my man. I wish he was here to protect me. By now the police have regained themselves and find me sitting on the stairs.

Are you alright miss? Did you see a man come through here?

Yes, I did. He was holding a gun. Was he the one shooting? I'm so scared.

In this guise I am eventually able to get away. Men can be so easy.

Or should I call her by her modern skewed equivalent "the shrink." My unforeseen foray back into panic disorder has been headed off at the pass by my glorious Dr. from parts Near East. I've been placed on a med that has taken the edge off the panic but has also left me short of breath. Quid Pro Quo doctor? Looks like I'll have to call her in the morning. Good thing it's not August. (I know at least one of you got that reference. Probably a happy pill popper like me.)

This only goes to illustrate (quite literally) how futile it is to remain closeted.

Classic...

About two years ago I started suffering from anxiety attacks for no apparent reason. Well, that's not 100 percent true. There were obvious stressors in my life at that time. Just the same when a panic attack hits you there is no rationalizing with it. Your body goes in to fight for flight mode with the emphasis on flight. The panic is so debilitating that there is little you can do to carry on with your life when you are in the midst of it. I had gained some level of control over my attacks until the last couple of weeks when they started to return. I have had several days of being unable to leave the house until something larger than my needs necessitated it. Describing an attack is a very subjective and personal thing. Not the same for everyone. For me, imagine a lingering and very present fear of nothing in particular that resides in your chest. Then imagine being afraid of the passage of time and what needs to be done in the coming hour. Imagine your heart beating out of its chest when the phone rings. Imagine the clock becoming your worst enemy. Imagine willing to take or do almost anything to make these feelings stop. If you can imagine these things you can have a sense of what I'm feeling as I write this now.