A day in the life.

Yesterday was Friday,
and it took all my energy
to move my muscles and smile.
I couldn't remember
how to clock in at work,
but my coworkers were understanding.
Then hours passed, seemingly
without my consent,
until I was in somebody's car,
sitting and staring.
I found a public restroom and
a place to get some caffeine,
then suddenly, I blinked again,
and I was in a downtown city.
The sun felt comforting,
not overwhelming, and hours passed
until I "came to" once more.
This time I was leaning against a pillar
on the first floor of a building.
The elevators were blocked off,
and occasionally people would
trickle in and take the stairs
in a dark hallway.
Several strangers glanced at me;
a few asked if I was okay.
I later remembered a few of their faces
and wondered if I had met them before.
Then, I felt stable enough to leave.
My legs no longer felt like jello.
I blinked again, and it was the
next day, so many hours had gone by
without my knowledge.

What happened? I asked myself.
Parts of me replied and filled me in,
and I wanted to cry,
but there was no one to cry to.
I had almost run away.
I had almost died.
Almost, almost, almost.

And now everything is forgotten;
this has happened a thousand times before,
with no trigger from alcohol or substances.

It is just me, trying to survive.