The Man Who Couldn’t Find Himself

Once upon A time there was a young man named Henry Littlefinger who, like many young people these days, spent most of his time trying to find himself. His search began in high school when, in his senior year, he saw what appeared to be himself going out a school door. “Henry Littlefinger, is that you?” he yelled, but he, if it were he, kept going. He looked all over school that day, but he wasn’t there, nor was he anyplace else, at home or in the neighborhood. He wasn’t too worried, though, because he was sure he’d find himself upon graduation. Imagine his dismay, then, when, diploma in hand, he wasn’t anywhere in sight.

So he went to college to find himself. But he wasn’t there, either, although he did catch a glimpse of himself a few times, or thought he did. Excitedly, he would yell, “Henry Littlefinger, is that you?” at the one he thought was himself. But it didn’t help; he, or whoever it was, disappeared as soon as he yelled, and sometimes before.

JK

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John Keefauver

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Once upon A time there was a young man named Henry Littlefinger who, like many young people these days, spent most of his time trying to find himself. His search began in high school when, in his senior year, he saw what appeared to be himself going out a school door. “Henry Littlefinger, is that you?” he yelled, but he, if it were he, kept going. He looked all over school that day, but he wasn’t there, nor was he anyplace else, at home or in the neighborhood. He wasn’t too worried, though, because he was sure he’d find himself upon graduation. Imagine his dismay, then, when, diploma in hand, he wasn’t anywhere in sight.

So he went to college to find himself. But he wasn’t there, either, although he did catch a glimpse of himself a few times, or thought he did. Excitedly, he would yell, “Henry Littlefinger, is that you?” at the one he thought was himself. But it didn’t help; he, or whoever it was, disappeared as soon as he yelled, and sometimes before.