Sunday 11:14 AM

My eyes crack open a split second before the air floods my lungs and I spring up to a seated position in bed. I can feel the sweat comprising my body – what little of it hasn’t seeped into my mattress. It is light outside and it’s silent. I can feel the dried tears around my eyes and down my face. I’m not embarrassed. There is a chair propped  under my bedroom doorknob for safety reasons. Real safety reasons. As my feet touch the floor, sticking in their tracks, I reach around the side of my bed and clutch the golf club I stashed there weeks ago. Good looking out, Previous Me.

I still can’t figure out if it is today or yesterday. I want to think everything I saw at the Circle was a dream, but I’m really not that persuasive.

As I wrapped the blanket around me for warmth, I hear the sound of my upstairs neighbor moving a chair or something. All the muscles in my body tensed up, and I aimlessly swung my club toward the door, breaking the full length mirror staring back at me. Glass everywhere, I start pushing it aside with my seven iron before walking through it. I need to get to my computer. Still halfway oblivious, I could feel the glass crunching underfoot, but thinking they weren’t my feet. Computer. Objective. Execute.

I moved the chair away from the knob and slowly opened the door. The lights were on in my living room, but the sound was off. My eyes located my computer and my hands turned it on. As it booted, my thinking brain returned to action. “Where is Dan?” it asked me. “How did I get home?” “Why do my feet hurt?” “Fuck, WHY DO MY FEET HURT!!!”

The pool of blood that I was now standing in fully brought me back to life. Not knowing where to step, I just fell over, thinking that was the best way to get off my feet. Sometimes I’m a friggin genius.  

Sunday 1:37 PM

I don’t recommend it, and surely would never think to try it voluntarily, but removing glass shards from the bottoms of your feet with your fingers is one of the most effective ways to forget about all the terrible stuff that is going on around us outside. To say that it is supremely meditative is an insult to meditation, let’s just say that I’ve got my hands full.

Sunday 2:57 PM

Feet bandaged, computer in lap. It’s time to see what the hell happened yesterday: Wow! We got a new Mayor. Great, Now he can blame this all on Fenty? Google search for “zombies,” all I get is this stupid blog. That’s no help at all. Useless as always. Fuck. Why is it that I can find out exactly what is going on in Australia right now, but I can’t find a goddam thing about something that just happened 10 blocks from my apartment and 12 hours ago?

Having no clue what to do with these emotions, my body decided to vomit. Why is it that my body needs to evacuate every time something serious happens? This is getting old.

So, just for fun, let’s take stock of this situation: I just saw dozens of people either get eaten alive or crushed to death, I am covered in my own piss and sweat and blood and vomit, I can’t walk because my feet have been through a blender, and oh, wait, that’s right, I start my first day of work tomorrow. Did I mention it is for the Government agency that is supposed to PREVENT all this from ever happening in the first place?!?!?!?!?

Fuck PTSD. I’ve spent enough time worrying and stressing and evaluating what’s happened over the past few weeks. I’s switching to pre-traumatic stress disorder. At least that way there will be some correlation between how I feel and what is going on.

My first day at work. Now that is something to get all nauseous about.