Originally written on 29 December 2013 – taken from my older blog
A vanishing point. She’s starting to believe that she’s gradually disappearing, and not just figuratively, but also literally. And with the kind of magical thinking that she has, she thinks this can’t be far from the truth.
Over the past couple of months, she had been losing so much weight. More than she ever wanted. Faster than during those times when she actually was trying to lose weight. A pound a week, then two, until she lost almost a total of 20 pounds. Will I be lost into thin air? She worries while noticing that her body isn’t stopping from losing more weight.
Seeing that she’s almost skin and bones who can’t fill up her clothes, her parents urged her to see the doctor. Even though she knew the doctor wouldn’t find anything, she went on with her parents’ wish. True enough, her physical health turns out to be virtually perfect. Aside from the sporadic colds and sometimes slight fever, she’s well. Then what’s causing you to lose that much weight? Her parents wonder. Well, the usual, Ma. You know I’ve been having trouble sleeping, and I can’t eat. And the latter is very apparent. From the voracious eater that she was, from someone who would entertain herself almost hourly with chocolates and sundaes and slices of pizza from every fastfood joint, to someone who, if served with a hot, freshly-made Big Mac, would just stare at it like it was just a pile of objects derived from plants and animals, haphazardly put together by a fastfood crew who is just waiting for the end of his shift.
Aside from the apparent fact that she is “physically disappearing,” there also had been less sightings of her. She had vanished from the usual spot she occupies in this bar where different bands played. The chair she usually occupies during weekly meetings with different sets of friends remains unused. That happy-hour glass of whiskey intended for after-office discussions with colleagues remains unordered. Even the internet/social media has become safe from her noisy thoughts which she usually screams (every other minute) to the world, sometimes in ALL CAPS.
Nowadays, she just finds herself retreating to her tiny apartment on a rooftop (which she calls her sanctuary), with windows overlooking the world. Sometimes she would read. Sometimes she would watch old movies she downloaded. Sometimes she would spend hours looking out the window and daydreaming.
Solitude becomes her. Solitude to the point of isolation. While she thrives in this kind of confinement, she still can’t help but wonder, how long till she vanishes completely and the world will just forget her?
(“From the archives” are curated blog entries from my old blog page that I’ve already set to private)