Vanishing

Recently I noticed I started to disappear. Don’t get me wrong, if you meet me walking down the street you will still see me, but I know, I am sure, I absolutely believe I am starting to disappear.

At first it felt like chills. Occasional, mild, non-threatening or in any way special chills. I started feeling the cold more than I used to, and I started to take it with me whenever I went. I’d take it into my bed, and the covers wouldn’t abolish it, I’d enter and leave the office with it. I’d have dinner, and the chills would follow me as I lifted up the spoon.

As time went, I stopped crying during talent shows, completely ceased to smile at dogs on the street and let dust pile up on the nice dresses. I could watch the news in full and not get angry at anyone. The buskers in the train did not touch my blood pressure. At times I could feel the space that opened up inside of me, vast and empty. Creepily, icy, cold, blue air started to fill my hollow inside corridors, moving ever so slowly, advancing to every vacant part.

With the passing days I felt lighter, moved faster and became more invisible. I’m telling you! The lady from the bakery stopped smiling at me, and never made eye contact again. My colleagues just passed by me in the common areas. I went in and out of stores without being pestered by shop attendants.

I’ve made peace with the blue air. The more and more space that opens up inside of me, the more of me vanishes behind the cold, icy breath. I imagine, I dream, as I feel everything freezing little by little, the surprise summer breeze that will finally let me melt.