I can't find my birth certificate. Most other people can't find theirs either. But the clerk in the county I live in has searched his files thoroughly and finds no indication of my nativity. I've checked the two local hospitals personally. No documents exist there on me. And the same goes for state records. Moreover, I've never met my mom and dad. In fact, my so-called parents have never been. I recall no aunts, uncles or cousins. What's more, no one has ever come forward declaring that he or she is my grandparent.

Therefore, I strongly suspect that I wasn't born but cloned! Yes, it's a horrifying thought, but it's the only explanation for the missing elements in my life. There's just no other conclusion.

My childhood is not even a blur in my mind. The first memory I have is of my freshman year in high school. Ten years have passed since then. Through all that time, I've had only one home, my YMCA apartment in which I live alone and pay my own rent.

I've never done anything to cloud my mind about my early life. Drugs and alcohol, to say nothing of tobacco and castor oil, have never passed my lips or wherever else they could have gained access to my bloodstream. Admittedly, I've eaten more than my share of junk foods—mostly salted nuts and baby, confectionary-coated donuts because they're my favorites. After devouring them, I've always quenched my raging thirst with caffeine-free diet soda. But I don't think this would have affected my cranium, at least not for very long.

The brain couldn't possibly be all that empty of memories from youth, unless I never actually had one (youth, not brain). Perhaps I was cloned directly into teenage-hood. I've always had a hunch that my life began (in more ways than one) around age fourteen. Further, if I was an orphan, I'd certainly remember some of my youthful days.

I had almost no diseases. My first sensations of growing maturity were beginning to stir. Girls looked mighty good to me right from day one. They still do. The question might reasonably be asked, “Why?” After all, a partner isn't needed for cloning.

If I was brought here that way, where could it have occurred? Who was responsible (or irresponsible) for it? Who did my cells come from? Are they looking for me? Do they consider me an illegal alien? So many questions, not enough answers. It's all so confusing—and depressing. Yet I feel as if I've been here before and done all this.

I go amongst normally-born individuals and act like I'm one of them. But I feel as though something's absent from my life. It scares me. I don't know what didn't happen to me. Can others see what's missing? If so, they haven't said.

The big question might be, how could someone have cloned me so far back? The science for this process wasn't even mentioned until recently.

As a clone, I missed out on plenty of childhood pleasures—holidays, illnesses, recess, sibling rivalry. The one thing I know, my clone parent must be a genius, to be a pioneer. But why aren't I one too? And how come I don't know if I was cloned or born?

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