It started in the early evening of October 31st. Time began to lose step for me. I felt anxious and didn’t belong anywhere I found myself. The house. The grocery. Walking in the neighborhood. The bar. The street. Back home.
And then near black out. Rage. Screaming. Craziness took over. Crying. Sobbing. Knowing.
Why this way?
There would have never been any other way.
And from that night, every day could be any day. Sunday could be Wednesday. Thursday is Monday.
6am feels the same as 2pm.
8pm is 3am.
The world isn’t moving to a concept of time that I recognize anymore. I feel sad and alone. Far away from everyone, but resigned to the idea that this is what it’s supposed to be.
Out of step. Looking in from the outside. People’s voices and faces are farther away than I remember.
Maybe I broke something else that night. Disconnected a cord in my heart or brain.
Or maybe I just woke up to what’s always been here all along.
The real reality.
I hope not.
Chest is heavier than I like. I’m coated in nonchalance. Continue to move and clean and organize and eat and sleep and drive and talk and act normal.
But it’s not normal.
And I don’t like it.