MITCHELL

I felt like I was contracting. You ever feel like that? You can see your world shrinking around you — you're taking up less space. You see fewer people. You know fewer people. You run into people you used to know, people you used to stay up into the small hours talking passionately with dramatic hand gestures and empty pint glasses on the bar in front of you. But somewhere along the line you made one decision that — I don't know — that took you a step away. Maybe you needed a break. Maybe the life you created — maybe you needed to rest. Maybe you got afraid. And then a couple years drag by and you're still — disengaged. A few people call. You still get invited to places, to see  things. They ask what you're doing. You have to find creative ways to say "nothing." But then — it's like a map of the city that's your world and all the people you know, all the places you go, are colored on top of this black street map. And, as goes on the color fades and you realize that nobody notices this but you. You always thought you were important to people; that if you were gone people would notice and that maybe things wouldn't be as good, somehow. But the world just keeps going on and you don't really matter. And then you don't really care that much. You convince yourself that the small life is one you can be happy living. Your — drive, passion, whatever — your energy to — do — anything is fading and dissipating. That's a good word for it: dissipating. It sounds like a hiss — like a slow leak. Then, one day, you realize how deflated you are. You realize the battles you've fought are all in your head and that there's no reason to go on with them. All the things that stop you from — all the things that make you small — maybe you could set them aside. Maybe. And then... what?