Days

There are days where I don’t feel like I’m really there. I feel like the day just passes by and I’m a bystander. I just watch. The actions are not my own. My feet are their own person. I watch TV but the sound from it is just noise that doesn’t even register in my brain, but I stare at it anyway. There is a motor in my stomach that pushes me forward. I walk to work each day. Than walk back home. That’s it. That’s my day. I converse with my mom, but don’t really listen and answer with a voice that isn’t mine. By the end of the day, I don’t remember what I did. I don’t remember who I talked to at work or what I ate. I just remember that I got up, went to work, and now I’m home. No details. No memories.

e.r.b

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