The horror of an exchanged existence

Dawn was here, whining like a neglected old bitch, pouring its pallid light over a sleeping world. Jeremy awoke, pulling himself out of the fog of his dreams with the delicacy of a drunk returning at dawn. A heavy veil of uncertainty hung over his mind, a thick mist that blurred the boundary between dream and reality.

His body was foreign to him, an unknown land he'd never trod. His skin no longer spoke to him, his senses no longer sang the familiar refrain. Every fiber of his being, every particle of his flesh, screamed out a name that was not his own.

The air he breathed smelled of another, a flowery perfume he'd never loved. The sheets against his skin were woven with unfamiliar sensations, a foreign softness that flayed his mind. Everything was out of place, disconnected, like a cubist painting in a classical portrait gallery.

In this twisted, distorted world, he staggered to his feet, a stranger in his own body. He was a sailor stranded on a desert island, an explorer lost in a jungle of confusion. And in the mirror, the piercing green gaze staring back at him was that of a woman. Olivia. The cry of his mind was lost in the silence of dawn: he had become Olivia.

With Olivia's feet, he paced the house, stumbling into the unknown like a toddler learning to walk. Olivia's eyes reflected a strange world of faded colors and awkwardly aligned shapes. And in the mirror, Olivia's face observes him, a stranger bearing his gaze, his smile, his fears.

He explores the confines of the house, rummaging through Olivia's memories like a thief in search of treasure. Images, bits of life caught in the web of an existence that is not her own. Shards of Olivia, fragments of her life stick to him, penetrate his skin, invade his mind.

Photos, letters, objects charged with memory... Each element reveals a little more about Olivia, the woman whose name, face and body he now bears. She's a teacher, lives alone, seems to have a well-ordered life, a banal existence. And he, Jeremy, is now lost in this normal that is so foreign to him.

He locks himself away in this house, isolating himself from the outside world. He's neither Olivia nor Jeremy; he's a stranger in a body that doesn't belong to him. He is the intruder, the stowaway, the identity thief. He is the observer, the hider, the survivor. And every moment, every heartbeat, he's Olivia. And he hates it.

Day after day piles up like old carcasses, and Jeremy-Olivia, like a castaway clinging to his raft, struggles against the current of reality. He learns to tame this rebellious body, to walk with legs that are not his own, to speak with a voice that scratches his ears. He learns to act, to wear Olivia's mask, to erase Jeremy.

He makes this existence his own, takes the reins of this foreign destiny. He becomes the teacher, the lonely woman, the banal silhouette in the landscape of life. He blends in, loses himself in the role, dilutes himself in normality.

But deep down, he's still Jeremy. In the silence of the night, in the darkness of his thoughts, he mourns the man he was, the ghost he has become. He weeps for his old life, for his lost identity, for his stolen freedom. He weeps in Olivia's skin, in the solitude of her mind, in the icy embrace of the night.

And every tear, every sob, every silent cry is a farewell to Jeremy, a tribute to his memory, a stone on his grave. Every day that passes is another step towards oblivion, another step into the grave of his old life. With each passing day, he becomes a little more Olivia, a little less Jeremy. And with each passing day, he loses himself a little more in the labyrinth of his existence.

One day, the mail arrives. Ordinary mail, bills, advertisements, a letter. A letter for Olivia. A letter with the scent of death, the smell of the end. He opens it, with Olivia's hands, reads the words with Olivia's eyes, feels the pain with Olivia's heart.

It's a farewell letter. A letter from Jeremy. Jeremy is dead. His old body is dead, his old self is dead. The news falls like a cleaver, severing the last threads tying him to his old life. He's Olivia now. Jeremy is no more.

Grief invades him, overwhelms his defenses, drowns his mind. He cries for Jeremy, for his old self, for the ghost he has become. He cries in Olivia's skin, in the silence of her room, in the darkness of the night.

And then the pain becomes unbearable. The weight of his existence, the burden of his identity, crushes and overwhelms him. He can't breathe, can't think, can't exist.

In Olivia's skin, with Olivia's heart, he lets himself go. He allows himself to be carried away by pain, to be engulfed by despair. He lets himself sink into the abyss, let himself be carried away by the current.

And as life withdraws from his body, as Olivia fades away, he's still there. Jeremy. Alone. Lost. And as the shadow of death creeps over him, he closes his eyes. And in the silence of the night, under Olivia's sad gaze, he dies. Jeremy dies. Olivia dies. Everything fades away.