So I am January, and everything that it
entails. I bear the same name as a
million other Januaries just like me, the same look, the same genetic makeup, the same job, the same face, the same goals, and the same dreams.
I am and will be a secretary for the rest of my life. I am good at what I do, I was made for my job, and my job was made for me.
I am same.
I have lived the same as every other January like me for 17 years. And a year from now, on the first of January, I will die from the same genetic defect every January has died from. No January has ever lived past 18.
No January has ever wanted to.
I believe I have been infected with the Unsame Virus. My head aches, throbs, and pounds
without ever stopping. I know I must turn myself in. That is the only logical thing to do.
It all started with the hideous Unsame One that crossed my path, and thrust a strange object into my hands. It is he who is to blame, and it is I who must fight this. I cannot shut out my master, keeper, and overseer, Time---nor disobey the clock. I will forever march to its dictates, and remain true.
I am a Same One.
I was born same,
I have lived same,
and I will die same.
I am January.
I am Same.