Learning to disappear

I think about disappearing at least once a day.

Which is not to say I am daily considering doing myself in. Not at all. I just think about how amazing it is that we all disappear. I will disappear. Maybe today, maybe in fifty years.

There was a moment for me many years back, just like there probably was for you, when disappearing became a Thing: I had a friend, then I got a phone call, and it became apparent that I didn't have friend any more. Just like that.

I know it's not news. 

It's been happening everywhere forever, but that doesn't make it any less magical to me. In the same way as parents-to-be speak about childbirth as if it's never been done, I speak about disappearing as if it is a brand new trick. But just because I know seven billion babies have been born this century doesn't mean I know how to hold my own newborn for the first time, and just because I know we all disappear doesn't mean I have any idea how to do it.

I just find it so hard to believe. I'm here. One day I won't be.

I wonder how differently I would live if I really believed in my impending disappearance. Seems to me people either go nuts or go Gandhi with this kind of knowledge. Or they just distract themselves in one of a million ways.

Today I chose distraction. But I'm one day closer regardless.