Unattainable

What is usually an ordinary occurrence of catching myself out of the corner of my eye in the reflection of an old television, today is now an infatuation. Staring endlessly into the drowning pool of sleeping pixels. Not the type of tiny square pixels used in modern day high definition displays, but the large rectangular ones in those that actually have a glass tube inside with a curved viewing surface. Just another one of those useless pieces of design trivia taught to us in art school. Of course none of that is important, for the thing I'm focusing on is the reflection itself, a fuzzy mirror image in shades of gray. Focusing in on the reflection of my position hard, enough so that I actually throw my sight out of focus. I continue to do this long enough until my view turns into one continuous plain of gray. At first its slightly unsettling watching your face melt away, seeing the parts with light shining on them slowly grow smaller until finally they disappear. Soon after, however, this feeling is over as my body is fully drenched in the emptiness, replaced with a grayish blob that starts eating away at the rest of my surroundings. At this point I relax knowing I've gotten rid of myself. Though, once everything turns to gray my eyes instantly snap back into focus as if being pulling back from a point of no return. A thought occurs to me and I wonder if there is anything past this point, a secret something I can't quite see or am not supposed to see. I try several more times, but to no avail. Eventually, I give up and continue with the rest of my day.