and entering

I No Longer Know Where I End and Timothée Chalamet Begins

Is this my face? Is that my hair?

It is with a heavy heart I announce that I no longer have any idea where I end and my hero, Timothée Chalamet, begins.

It started so innocently -- I just wanted to dress, look, and behave like everyone’s favorite Oscar-nominated indie god, but I have gone too far. I cannot remember my name, the details of my own life, or any piece of information about who I was before I became a living embodiment of the very soul, personality, and physical being of Mr. Chalamet.

I had always planned to dedicate my academic, extracurricular, and personal life (ie bedroom peaches) at Harvard to the art of cinema. To pursue my passion authentically, I decided to adopt a persona that balanced introspection, charisma, and mystery (while also being devastatingly handsome to the ladies!).

There was only one man for the job: T. Chalamet.

How did I go about becoming Lil Timmy Tim (as he is affectionately known to his friends, probably), you might ask? All it took was some scarves, a shaggy haircut, intermittent fasting, and a newfound tendency to scribble in a notebook while sitting under a tree and gazing wistfully into the distance, pondering a lost love from my youth, while muttering Golden Globe acceptance speeches under my breath, to effectively convey Mr. Chalamet’s Frenchness and artistic bravery.

Also, I exclusively eat undercooked escargot and have been hospitalized several times.

Taking on Timothée’s identity has destroyed any previous semblance of the person I used to be. I look in the mirror and all I see is the face of the 2018 Independent Spirit Award winner for Best Male Lead staring back at me. My family is concerned -- but alas, their names escape me. The only parents I recognize as my own are Marc Chalamet and Nicole Flender. Pauline, my sister -- I mean, Timmy’s sister -- is in Paris right now shooting a film. I’m so proud of her! Fuck, no, Timmy’s proud of her. (I assume.)

So who’s really at fault here? Me, for not having any self-worth or personality of my own, which inevitably led to my fanatical obsession with the star of the acclaimed film Beautiful Boy (in theaters now)? Or is Timmy himself at fault, for being so goddamn charming, intellectual, and a delight in red carpet interviews? The answer is obvious.

Please, call me by my name: Timothée Hal Chalamet.


© 2018