I’m just slightly disconnected from the flow of time everyone else experiences. Like a gear whose teeth are worn, which slips and skips every now and then.
It’s frustrating to just wake up in the morning and find I’ve lost a day—skipped over the preceding 24 hours entirely.
Friends get upset when one unexpectedly misses plans made. Employers issue threats. But as long as these missed days remained infrequent, it was manageable for me. People do their best to understand and forgive and offer opportunities to make up for such surprise absences.
It’s gotten worse, though. I lose days more frequently. Sometimes several days in a row, even.
Friends try to be understanding, but quietly—perhaps even without noticing—they start making plans with me less and less frequently.
They withdraw from me, in a mirror of my uncontrolled withdrawing from the world.
That’s fine. I understand. I can form relationships with people who do not expect my constant presence in their world. My new friends hardly notice when I’m gone for a day or three.
I hate to admit it, even to myself, but I skip more days than not lately.
Friends seem surprised to see me. They’ll ask how long it’s been since we last talked, and I have no idea how to answer. I’ve been seeing them as frequently as I can.
One day I wake up, and I find that everyone I know is missing, gone or unresponsive.
I’ve become a stranger to the world.
I have been absent too long, and all my connections have frayed away to nothing or were not given time to properly form in the first place.
I wonder if they even noticed when I stopped showing up, or if it was at best an idle thought when it eventually occurred to them they hadn’t seen me in a while.
It was a very long time since anyone could get close enough to me to become attached, after all.