It’s been a strange week. Strange decade. Nothing new, nothing old. Just that familiar oddity of something missing. Like the inverse of a stone in my shoe, it wears me down. Slowly.

Hello again, old friend. How’ve you been? I’m sleeping all right these days. In between the dreams of the unfinished, alligators and jumping fences. Sometimes, I wake up to the sensation of falling. I read somewhere it is the brain’s way of checking that you’re not dying. Did you miss me? Or did your teeth find other flesh to tear into? I am happy now. Content. A lesser dimension. Only staring into the mirror, I look at a different self, trapped inside a glass box. The teasing illusion of freedom.

Why are you back? Or did you never really leave? Hiding on the other side of my eyeballs. It’s nice with some company. I am surrounded by people who love me, look up to me, who hate my guts. Feeling real is never found in the perception of others. Compressed into an ice cube tray. I feel lonely. This time, I am the one missing.

I look so old in the mirror. Dark circles under my eyes and scars that my makeup can’t hide. A battle of self-worth that I lost a long time ago. Everyday reminders to humble me. Ever the astronautic fighter, now, I am a preacher. A false prophet telling the stories of 80% perfect, happiness is in the little things, and of the indifferent peace of being part of the universal soul: Brahman doesn’t give a shit about you. Isn’t that nice, peaceful? Downsizing, equality, mediocrity. Meditate yourself away. Carry a cross and let the unique you fade. You are good enough, I am enough. I am too much. I am very convincing, I am an excellent liar.

Stay close, old friend. Leave. Every day, my skin bleeds. Anything to feel something other than this mediocre slowly pushing my shopping cart forward like a Stepford freak. Organic oat flakes, broccoli, tofu, low-fat yoghurt, cause heaven forbid I should get any fatter.

Smile. Others need you.