Sometimes, I think the cognitive part of me is capable of completely leaving, and all that remains is a container in the shape of me. A hologram I guess – so real yet lacking density and actuality. Holographic.
The moments are rare and the reason it occurs vary. But when it does, it’s like I’m outside of myself… more like I’m a spider on the wall and each of my eight eyes are peering into different things… my body, my soul, my surroundings, my mind, my heart, my eyes, my elsewhere and who knows…
For those who happen to be around me, the only thing I know to do is apologize profusely – my arms are incapable of holding onto a hug, and my tongue is pre-set to the two words “I’m sorry” on repeat.
The oddest bit is how weightless I feel but instead of escaping into lightness… everything is so heavy. Carrying my thoughts or emotions (let alone myself) becomes impossible, my body feels sore and I ache for sleep.
But somewhere in the portal between that (a temporary shutting down, a metaphorical death?) and the conscious motions of “life”… I find that I bother to pen this down because when I’m not in between the two, I’m incapable of remembering what it’s like or I’m crippled by the inability to write.