There are times when I'd rather not wear glasses; when I'd rather move through a world of perpetual motion blur. During these times it becomes easier to blend in, be invisible, and, when I want it bad enough, even disappear.
All weekend I wanted to disappear. Of course I didn't mean that in the absolute sense. Just temporarily, over the weekend. I felt like I needed to recharge, to take back parts of me that have been slowly breaking off from my skin -- as they have often done in the past.
I was only mildly surprised at the calm surrender in which I accepted this sudden yearning to disappear, to retreat, as if it's all happened before, and I already knew what to expect as well as what to do. I didn't even notice my mind pacing, rhythmic and deliberate, like heartbeats and footfalls. One, two, three, it counted. Familiar situations trigger switches in me -- switches I have painstakingly built and eventually mastered over the years of drafting emotional blueprints -- and they conveniently set me on autopilot.
This is what I must have evolved into, I thought with wonder. And for a moment, the cold, machine-like efficiency in which my mind registered the situation... scared me. But the world continues to be blurry, and by my will, every cell in my body melts into the atmosphere. I exhale an affirmation into the air, "Today, I become no different from everyone else."
