There are days I disappear from myself entirely and forget what it’s like to recognize my own face in the mirror.
I don’t know where I go on these days, but I imagine it’s endless. It’s the type of place where it’s easy to get lost and even easier to not want to be found.
Visitors don’t come around when I go here. Mostly because they don’t know where to find me. I leave no trace, no clues, just blank stares and weaker smiles.
Sometimes, I can watch the real me. I can haunt my own life while floating next to myself as she walks and talks like no part of her had ever gone away.
Leaving myself feels like sitting in an empty room and staring at the white walls while I sit crosses legged on the floor and wait for something to change.
But it never does.
When I get to go back, nothing has changed. I notice the off beat steps timed by others around me and the taste of the sour candy air.
I know I’ll always have to go back and forth from here to there. It’s not always fair, my time isn’t always shared the way I would like between the two.
The next time I leave, when I go back there, I’ll mark my existence into the place between and call it home. Maybe then, I won’t have to go so far.