How to Disappear Completely.

1. Begin to breathe slower. Time the expansions of your fragile lungs with the rhythms of the universe. Breathe quietly, too. Listen for the rustling of the leaves from the oak outside your bedroom window, and make sure you are softer than they. 
2. Drink only soup in mugs, and eat only wheat crackers. Languish on soft leather couches while the rest of the world dines. Cover yourself with a blanket, and burrow beneath the dark, imagining the warmth of a hot chocolate running through your system. You are not hungry. You are simply empty.
3. Skirt along the edges of walls. Make sure you wear beige scarfs and grey cardigans. Watch your skin slowly become translucent, drifting slowly from milky white to an undernourished glass. Fade into the wallpaper, and smile softly to yourself when people ask where you are.
4. Smile less. Let the muscles of your cheeks seize up in disuse. Feel the heaviness of your skin, your blemished, imperfect skin. Obliterate the memories of laughter and grinning and summertimes. Your cheeks will crease uncomfortably while you fight the urge to laugh, but that’s okay. Let them sag, let them hollow, until there is nothing more than a ghost of contentment around your lips.
5. Forget your own name. Let identity fall from you, like waterdrops that drip away after a shower, down your naked, angular frame. Forget the name of your mother and father, learn them only by scent. Try not to remember what a pronoun is, and when people ask for your name, shake your head silently. If you have a name, disappearing will be all the more difficult. Renounce yourself.
6. Keep the blinds closed all day. Live in the dark, stretch out in bed, let the people you once knew worry about you until they eventually drift away out of despair. Watch the sun try to force its way into your bedroom as it rises. Laugh as the night conquers it. Forget how to move. Forget how to speak. Forget.
7. Write more, and let the paper consume your soul,
8. until you have nothing more to give,
9. until you have no one else left,
10. until the ink runs dry.