old draft featuring confusion

by mandaceehb

these days the days are no longer the distinct black and white stripes of a zebra crossing, the boundaries are no longer tangible. more often i find myself struggling to remember what i did yesterday, what day today is (saturday) and what day yesterday was; these things don’t seem to matter or register much anymore when you have escaped a consistent schedule and routine. these days the days are a mass of marble, melded together into swirly patterns in which the days and nights become confused and memory is charted more by events and people and conversations than what i did on mondaytuesdaywednesdaythursdayfriday.

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