Last Tuesday Is Just Gone
I tried to remember last Tuesday and there's nothing there. Then I started counting the weeks I've lost.
This one goes to a heavy place. If you’d rather not read it tonight, that’s a fine choice — support resources are here.
I'm lying here trying to remember what I did last Tuesday, and I can't. Not in a scary way, I keep telling myself. Just, it's gone. I know I went to work because I go to work. I know I ate something. But the actual day, the texture of it, isn't anywhere.
So I tried the Tuesday before that. Same. Then I tried going backward through the week, and they all started folding into one long beige afternoon, the same commute, the same screen, the same walk to the same kitchen for the same coffee.
It's almost three now and I'm doing math I don't want to do. If a week disappears like this, smooth and clean, then how many have I already lost without noticing. I can't tell where they went. I can't tell if I was there for them.
I'm going to set an alarm. Tomorrow I'm going to write down one true thing that happened, just so Wednesday has an edge to it. I keep saying that. I think I said it last week too.
Did this one stay with you?
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