You can abandon yourself without leaving the room.
Agree while your body says no. Laugh when something hurts. Become easier to love by removing everything inconvenient from the person being loved.
From the outside, nothing moves.
You still answer messages. Go to work. Buy food. Stand in front of the mirror. Your name remains attached to you.
But abandonment is not measured in kilometres.
It happens each time you know what is true and behave as if you do not. Each time belonging costs you your own presence, and you pay.
You don’t go anywhere.
That is the danger.
You stay—and slowly become the place where someone was left behind.