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tssmn t1_iwvhecs wrote

Five days ago, I turned on every computer screen I had. Full brightness, nothing but white. I put the harshest noise I could find on my speakers at the highest volume. I told myself that I could do this, that I could find a remedy. I'm just lucky the plugs are still the same.

I can't see the screens anymore. I can't hear the noise. Nothing seems real, apart from the reality that I know I'm awake. I haven't blinked in a long time. I can feel the pain when I try. That pain is an anchor, tethering me to this reality, if there even still is one.

Six days ago, I didn't know what a 'time warden' was. Six days ago, I was a college student, studying music production in the spare time I wasn't breaking my back at a warehouse for little pay. Six days ago, I was able to sleep without traveling backwards through time.

Six days ago, I had my own apartment. 40 years ago, that apartment was some general store that sold some food and a bunch of useless shit that no one today would even care about, so when I woke up 8 hours after sleeping, laying on an old wooden floor of the store that was about to celebrate its last days in bankruptcy, you could color me surprised.

There was a caveat to time traveling that I found out very early on. It's not just you that travels - it's all your stuff, too. Imagine trying to explain to someone in the '80s what a flatscreen computer monitor is. Imagine trying to convince them you're not a thief. Imagine getting shot.

That pain, too, is an anchor.

This time warden said I was being punished. I asked why, and they answered with 'there are things at work that are beyond your understanding.' Sure, okay. Real cool, vague reason you got there. I already hate talking to people, so trying to have some entity outside the bounds of space and time give you a clear-cut answer as to why you travel back in time at the rate of one month per hour of sleep? Truly makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I can already tell what's going to happen. My body's so heavy and I haven't been able to pick up the pen and write. Eventually - very, very soon, I think - my body's going to give up and I'll pass out for who-knows-how-long, and that's dangerous. I don't know... where I will be when I wake up.

If I wake up.

Oh, god.


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