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The fact of the matter is, in reality people tend to be surprisingly calm when they hear news like this. When I found out my diagnosis, the first thought that popped into my head was that I was one stamp away from earning a free massage at the spa, and also that I shouldn’t have stocked up on so much toilet paper and laundry detergent during my last shopping trip. But it wasn’t long until I was overcome by a bottomless sadness. I was only thirty years old. Okay, I know that means that I’ve lived longer than Hendrix and Basquiat, but somehow I felt like I still had a lot of unfinished business. There must be something, I didn’t know what, but something on this planet that only I was meant to accomplish. But I didn’t really dwell on any of this. Instead I wandered in a daze until I reached the train station, where I spotted a couple of young guys playing guitar and singing. This life will someday have to end, so until that final day arrives, Do what you want to do, do it, do all you can, That’s how you face tomorrow. Idiots, I thought. Now that’s what I call a complete lack of imagination. No wonder they’re wasting their time singing and panhandling their lives away in front of this god-awful station. I was so angry I couldn’t bear to wait around for the train and listen to these two guys go on any longer, so I decided to head home on foot and take my sweet time to get back to my apartment. Once I reached home, I clattered up the stairs and opened the cardboard-thin door to the cramped little space that I called home. It was then that the realization of the utter hopelessness of my situation finally caught up with me. The outlook was bad. I mean literally, for I couldn’t see a thing all of a sudden, and then I fainted right there on the doorstep. When I came to, I was still lying in the doorway. God knows how long I’d been there for. In front of me I could make out the shape of a blurry, round, black-and-white ball with gray patches. The ball made a noise: “Meow.” That’s when I realized it was a cat. But not just any cat; it was my cat, the one I’ve been living with for four years now. He came closer and let out another meow. I took this as a sign that he was worried about me. But since I wasn’t dead yet, I righted myself and sat up. I still had a fever and my head continued to throb. Then reality hit me again and I realized this wasn’t a dream. I really was sick. Then, out of nowhere, someone’s voice bellowed from across the room: “Hello! So great to meet you!” I looked up and there I was. I mean, it was me, standing there, looking at me. Although technically it couldn’t be me because I was still sitting in the doorway to the apartment. Maybe it was someone who looked just like me, I thought. The word “doppelgänger” sprang to mind. I had read something about this sort of thing in a book ages ago. There’s another you who appears when you’re about to die. Had I finally gone crazy? I wondered. Was my time already up? My head was starting to spin, but I knew I had to tackle whatever it was that was standing before me head-on. “Um, who are you?” “Who do you think?” “Uhh … the angel of death?” “Close!” “Close?” “I’m the devil.” “The devil?” “Yes, the devil!” And that’s how, in a surprisingly low-key kind of way, the devil appeared in my life. Have you ever seen him? Well, I have, and he’s not what you’d expect. The real devil doesn’t have a scary red face or a pointy tail, and there’s no pitchfork in sight! The devil looks just like you. So I guess the real doppelgänger is the devil! It was a shocking discovery and a lot to process in the moment, but what could I do about it? Here was the devil in my apartment, and surprisingly enough, he seemed like a nice guy, so I decided not to freak out and to just go along with it. Upon closer inspection, I realized that although the devil looked exactly like me, we couldn’t have been more different when it came to our sense of style. I always dress in basic black and white. I mostly wear black slacks with a plain white shirt and a black sweater. Boring, I know, but that’s just who I am deep down—a monotone guy. I remember ages ago my mother once got fed up with my wardrobe choices. “There you go buying the same thing over and over again,” she’d complain, but to this day I still find myself sticking to my comfort zone whenever I go shopping. The devil, on the other hand, dresses, um, shall we say, unconventionally? Brightly colored Hawaiian shirts with patterns of palm trees and classic American cars, board shorts, and a pair of Ray-Bans propped on top of his head—as if he were permanently on vacation. Despite it being freezing outside, for the king of the underworld, clearly it was always summer. “So what are you going to do now?” he inquired. “Huh?” “I mean, you haven’t got a lot of time left … you know, your life expectancy thing and all that.” “Oh, that, right…” “So, what are you going to do?” “Well, I thought maybe I’d start with coming up with a list of ten things…” “Ugh, don’t tell me you’re going to copy that old movie cliché, are you?” “Yeah, sort of, I guess…” “You’d really do something that corny?” “You think that’s a bad move?” “Well, I mean, sure, a lot of people do it and proclaim they’ll check every last item off of their bucket list … You know the kind, right? It’s a phase that everyone goes through at least once. Although I guess it’s not as if you get a second chance now, do you?” Holding his sides, the devil let out a huge guffaw at this last thought. “I don’t really see what’s so funny about this…” “Ah, right, right … of course. Hm … Well, I guess you never know until you try, right? Why don’t we draw up a quick list right now then,” he suggested. So I got out a sheet of blank paper and wrote at the top of the page, “10 Things I Want to Do Before I Die.” Then I paused. I started feeling even more depressed immediately. I’m going to die any day now, and here I am wasting my time writing up lists? You’ve got to be kidding. It was difficult at first to organize my thoughts, but somehow I managed to cobble a list together, despite the fact that the entire time I was working I had to avoid the devil, who was constantly trying to peek over my shoulder. And not to mention the fact that at one point I also had to forcibly remove the cat from my desk, because like all cats he always thinks it’s good idea to sit on whatever you’re trying to work on or read. So, after all that, here’s the list I came up with: 1. Go skydiving.
