Something swallowed my heart. It must have been ages ago, because it’s been missing for a while. I never really noticed the moment it was gone. It had to have been eaten whole though. I think I’d notice any gnashing and chewing.

I don't feel dead. I don’t feel anything. I meander from bed to work to bed in a body that’s like my own, but without the rush of blood driven by a steady heartbeat. Instead I move through the days pulled by weakened instinct. I only remember to eat when I begin to lose focus and my stomach begins to roil. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a long time.

One day I left my house before the sun rose. I never liked to provoke curiosity, and felt protected by that kind of dramatic mystery. I might be overly self-conscious about the interest others might have in me. I never met my neighbors. I quietly moved in and out of every place I’ve ever lived in. Maybe I seemed to them a ghost—more than nothing, but just out of their periphery. I doubt they'd notice that I was gone, and when they did it would only be as a curiosity.

I’d been meaning to depart for a while. I’d set aside some passing thoughts on occasion to plan for what I’d need, but lately those thoughts manifested with significantly more purpose. From the beginning, I knew I’d want an empty book and something to write with. Over the course of a few months, I filled a pack with the rest.

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I wrote a few brief letters to those who might recognize my absence—some in gratitude, others in regret. I worked the last few weeks of my job, and used that pay to ensure my debts were paid, and my accounts were closed. I sold what valuables I had, and donated the rest. There’s always someone in need of something, but I was still surprised with the ease of it.

And then I left, with dawn only a few hours away.

* * *

I settled down near a river several miles from the city. I hadn’t camped much before, but in the evenings I frequented a nearby library to learn how to survive in the wilderness. If only I learned instead just how vast the gulf between knowledge and experience is.

Halfway through setting camp up, I see a dim glow peeking over the horizon. It’s not too late to return.

It’s not too late to return physically, that is. I think my spirit left home behind a long time ago. I’m only just now trying to catch up to it.