Blurred

There are parts of the day that I feel a bit off, As if something is missing, or I am forgetting
I watch as my hours roll into my weeks, my sunrises hidden by almost dead sleep. I sit and watch myself work into the ground. Seven feet should be enough, but I will keep digging, just for the hell of it.

I dig

Down into

The ground.

I stop, shaking myself out of this feeling. Everything is okay, I repeat to myself. There aren't many worries that I feel chained to. The bright lights of the store that I work in beat against my eyes. It's funny, every time I try and recall a memory in the store, it's always dimly lit and foggy. It's like watching someone work through a foggy windshield. Blurred products that will be stripped from the shelves in the coming hours are unintelligible. I am not focused, not that it matters.

Red label to red label. Blue label to blue. Block out the terrible breakup music playing through the store's PA system.

Then, the song Time, performed by Ben Folds comes on. I am stripped from my concentration.

I am back to digging. "I can be the problem if that's easier."

I dig.
I dig some more.
I am forgetting something, or at least trying to. The music reaches into my mind and pulls memories out of the burn pile. Ember and I walking through hallways, smiling and joking. The night we helped each other sneak out of our houses. So long ago, we were young and stupid. Unaware of the problems to come.

Why did it end again?

Oh, right. I became an a*s, she became an abuser.

Perish the thought.

I dig.

I remember trudging through the untouched nature of Twin Lakes. Climbing the steep hill beyond Begonia Road. I was on a mission. Someone needed me, and I would be damned if I would not be there for them. Cigarette in my mouth, a root in each hand, and mud on my clothes, I climbed that hill.

Perish... perish

I stop digging.

I leave these memories alone.

Something like a feeling of death follows these memories. It is better to let them burn, perish.

The song ends, Ben has finished his message of nonchalant loss. Time takes time, you know?

Red to red, blue to blue.
Forget about the ache in your arms. Focus on the products and nothing else. Make these memories blurry and nondescript.

I can be the problem if that's easier...