Fade Away

         It was cold today . . . not the kind of cold that would make me shiver or give me goosebumps,  it was just . . . different. When I woke today, my mind was in a fog. I dragged myself out of bed and I've felt off ever since. The air felt thick and sounds muffled. Feeling engulfed by shadows, I tried rubbing the blurriness out of my eyes. Though vision improved, dimness remained at the edges of my vision.

         As I climbed out of bed, feeling the stale air around me, I wondered if I was coming down with something. I looked at the clock, surprised at how late it had gotten. I've never slept in this late before. I rushed to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and shaved in attempt to look presentable for the day. When I kept cutting myself shaving, I gave up and put the razor down. My hands were shaking. I balled them into fists, then tried shaking them out, to no result. I had hoped it would go away after I had eaten breakfast, but the tremor would not stop.

         Sluggishly, I returned to my room, and got dressed. I gathered my books and put them in my backpack before I headed out the door. Looking at my cellphone, I wondered why no one had called me yet to ask why I was running so late. I tried calling into work as I headed towards the subway, but no one picked up on the other end. As I entered the subway, the sounds around me seemed distant. I put a hand to my forehead; it didn't feel hot. 

         Approaching the turnstile, I reached into my wallet to retrieve my metro card, unnerved at how my hands were still shaking. I had to take a few swipes with the card before it registered. Shifting my backpack on my shoulders, and jamming my hands back into my pockets, I pushed through the turnstile and down to the F train. As I walked down the tunnel, I saw a mandolin player I recognized. I didn't know his name, but every time I saw him, I tried to give him a little money.  Usually he responded with a kindly smile; today however, he ignored me as I dropped some change into his hat.  I don't think it would have bothered me otherwise, but with the day starting off so poorly, it further unnerved me.

         Looking down, I saw my hands stopped shaking. At least that much was going well.  Just as I thought the day might be getting better, someone slammed into me, and knocked me down. I lay there on the ground sprawled amongst my books. An angry looking businessman stood there, looking down at me. He blinked and shook his head as a look of confusion crossed his face. Instead of offering to help me to my feet, he ignored me and gathered the spilled contents of his briefcase.  He picked up a couple items of mine, and not recognizing them as his own, tossed them aside, closed his briefcase, and rushed off to where ever it was he was originally headed. I lay there in disbelief. I expected him to help me up, or help me pick up my stuff. At the very least I expected an apology, or for him to angrily tell me to watch where I was going. Nothing.

         Who does that? What kind of person knocks someone over and ignores them? I could not rationalize why a total stranger would act like that.  I got up slowly with the intention of yelling after him, but I couldn't bring the anger to the surface. All I could feel was a shadow of anger. I stood there feeling lost and confused. I caught myself staring off into space and had to shake my head to get going. Everything around me looked dull and blurry around the edges. Gathering my things back together, all I felt was overpowering fatigue.  The day had just begun and already I felt my energy fading away. I just felt . . . off.

         Bruised and annoyed, I continued walking down the tunnel until I reached the subway train. Looking down, wanting to be left alone, I watched my feet as I shuffled towards the train. As I was about to enter, I was rudely shoved aside as another man pushed his way past me. Just as I was beginning to recover my balance, it happened again. People kept knocking against me as if I wasn't there. At first I kept seeing brief looks of anger turn suddenly to confusion, then they stopped acknowledging me entirely. What was going on?

         I struggled to push my way into the train before the doors closed.  Considering how everyone ignored me, I thought it safer to stand than risk sitting down.  I had to hold on to the bar tightly to keep from getting knocked over. When the train came to my stop, I found my exit barred, and I was unable to get by the mass of people exiting and entering the train. Seeing the door start to close, I forced my way towards it and fell through just before the door closed. I  barely managed to pull my hand away from a descending high heel, as I got back on my feet. Brushing myself off, I walked down the tunnel towards my exit.

         After trying again and again to reach someone in the office to no avail, someone finally picked up. But the voice that kept saying hello, is someone there, sounded muffled. The line was disconnected. Were they intentionally ignoring me, or was there something wrong with my phone?  Overcome by a bout of dizziness, I shook it off and walked the rest of the way to work.  As I approached the office building, I gasped to catch my breath. The building warped and distorted, and my vision grew gray around the edges.

         Maybe I should have thought to see a doctor when my hands started shaking, but my mind wasn't working very clearly ... isn't working very clearly. It was too late for me to make it to a hospital, and I could no longer see the keypad on my cellphone clearly enough to dial 911. I pushed through the entrance and worked my way to the front desk. My limbs felt like rubber as I collapsed.

         “Help me,” I said to the receptionist, shocked at how weak my voice sounded. “Please help me. Call an ambulance.”

         He ignored me. I tried shouting, but my voice wasn't strong enough. “Please! Help me.”

         “Why is no one listening to me?” I cried out. "Why won't anyone help me?”

         I grabbed his arm, but couldn't get a proper grip. He shivered, looking at me for a moment before his eyes glazed over. Blind to me again, he shook my hand off and went right back to his work, answering the questions of the next person who walked up to the desk.

         “Help me, please! There's something wrong with me. Someone . . . Anyone . . . Please help me.”

         With my back to the desk, I sunk down crying as everyone ignored me. My tears ran dry and the sweat on my forehead evaporated. I looked down at my hands in shock as I noticed how transparent they'd become. I would have screamed if I still had the voice to do so. I reached for the man standing near me and was horrified to watch my hand pass through his leg.

         I didn't know what to do. No one would help me. No one could help me. To the rest of the world, I no longer existed. I sat there losing hope, losing myself. I couldn't just give up and let it end like this. I reached into my backpack and pulled out a pen, the only voice I had left to me. I felt my fingers burn as I tried to get a grip on it. Pulling out my notebook and holding on to that pen was excruciating. I'd never felt pain like that before. It was only when I began writing that I realized there's no stopping this. I am going to fade away. With each word I write, it gets harder to hold the pen. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to write; I already feel my grip on the pen slipping. It's my only lifeline and it's fading fast. It was a cold day. That is the first thing I remember about this morning; I fear cold is the last feeling I'll ever know.

         The panic is setting in. It's getting harder and harder to write. Will anyone remember me when I'm gone? This isn't death; whatever this is, it's worse. Will my friends miss me? Maybe . . . maybe you're only here so long as your life has some value. Maybe . . . I'm not important enough to remember--My fingers hurt--Is that what happens?--I can't hold this pen anymore--When nothing you do matters any more, do you simply fade away?--It's too heavy--Someone please help me. Remember me while there's still time. Please. Don't do this to me. Please. I don't want to fade away. I'm too young for it to end like this. Why wo—