It Grew to Be More

My name is Simon, but everybody calls me Jack. I am, truthfully, not certain why. They just always have. And I let them. It lets me pretend. Slowly, over many years, Jack evolved, and on a different path than I did, I should say. At first it was minor details: the types of jokes he’d laugh at; or the kind of beers he’d prefer. But it grew to be more… Substantial? Significant? Perhaps just more. Period.

Eventually, I was just a small whisper in Jack’s orbit, not massive enough to hold any sway over his actions. He was many things that I had wished to be myself: bold, charismatic, self-assured. But these things took root and absorbed all the nutrients in my soul, choking the life out of me, growing into a tangled thicket, overgrown with pride, and lust, and hubris. Jack had grown strong from my weakness, and now I was powerless to stop him, forced to watch on helplessly, without a voice to scream. Otherwise I would have warned them. I do believe I would have warned them if I could have. Perhaps, maybe some would still be here. I wasn’t a coward, you must understand. There was just nothing I could do.

Notes: In this exercise, I began writing as soon as the prompt was delivered without any time to think. The prompt was to start with the words My name is.

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