Disappear

Disappear

She said she is vanishing, disappearing from the inside, organ by organ, till eventually all that will be left is an epidermal shell.

I sighed, but not too loud, after all, who am I to talk…and besides, she thinks I can help.

“I need you to ground me, bring me back.”

I’ve always been uncertain of my anchoring abilities, I’m not sure if I’m supposed keep the ungrounded here. There is part of me that believes people gravitate in the direction they are meant to go. But that could be me just being lazy. A way for me not to mess up my tiny commitment free life.

“My friend recommended you.” She says.

I quickly scan my internal rolodex, searching for the traitor.

“It started two years ago,” she continues.

Well, she going to get into whether I say I can help or not. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that, well, it tends to be a bit of a snowball effect.

I’ve become an unwilling doctor for the unweighted.

“My reflection was the first sign, the canary in the coal mine.” She laughs, followed by a long smokers’ cough. “I made the mistake of staring too long in the mirror.” She says this in a confessional manner of relief and shame. “I must have triggered something.” She turns away from me and stares at a wall with the imprint of a missing mirror. “the longer I stared the more I realized I wasn’t inside my body; I was outside looking in.” She picks at her fingernails, scrapping away unwanted debris, making sure to expose what little is left of her. “I think I accidentally encouraged the whole process,” she looks at me as her eyes begin to water. “I’m being sucked away.”

As much as I don’t want to scare an already terrified person, all I can think is yes…yes you are. She has tossed off a cliff, the most important part of her, and is now slowly losing the rest.

I’ve seen it before.

People slip away without even noticing, bit by bit they start to lose themselves. It’s becoming more frequent in a world obsessed with the tangible, a limited resource for the soul. Sooner or later the soul looks for a way to escape. Like a starving animal searching for food. Once something exposes a possible exit, the process is started.

“Any ideas?” she says, looking at me as someone living in a world she no longer has the privilege of occupying.

“I have one.” But it will only slow things down.

"Ignore the leak, stop listening to yourself drip drip drip away." I see her deflate, losing a small piece of what’s left of her. Her last resort has proven useless, she is lost.

“Or.”

I decide to go the alternative route, give false hope, or at least hope. I explain to her that she can regain some of what she has accidentally given up. She can retrieve her wandering energy by strengthening what she has left. I explain to her that the soul only leaves home in search of a stronger source. Something that will help it grow, feed it. That biologically she has weakened her only connection to her primary occupant.

This occupant is the only reason we exist in material form.

When our soul starts to leave, we need to give it a reason to come back. All our external relationships are practice to the only one that matters, our soul. The connectivity we ignore on the outside defines how we attach to our true selves.

I explain to her it is like we are showing our souls that we are worthy of containment.

I see her straighten her spine, redirecting her energy.

“You see.” I tell her. “We carry our soul, and when we die, it carries us.”