I’ve felt it creeping up on me for a while now. It’s like when you stand outside at dusk and stare at the sky, it doesn’t seem to get darker. Then you close your eyes for a minute or turn to face your front door then you realize you are standing in total darkness. But it seemed still daylight just a moment ago.
All those hippy dippy therapist always ask me where I feel it; in my head, in my heart, in my stomach? But as far as I can tell it resides in my bones first, makes them feel sweet and weak like spun sugar. From there it creeps to my hands, making them seem further away, until looking down at them makes me feel so separate from myself I wonder how I haven’t floated away.
I feel like the ship of Theseus all my parts are slowly being replaced. Except, unlike the ship of Theseus, my planks are not rotten, they are good sturdy planks and they are being replaced with rotten wood.
One of my least favorite things about this darkness, this rotten wood, this sugar sickly sweet feeling is that moment when I realize it’s here. I look in the mirror and it’s not me. This is one of my least favorite sensations. Not recognizing oneself is a terrible experience, but this is different. I look in the mirror and I am not myself and like dusk I didn’t even notice.
I am a different ship and it is dark out.
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