Dark As Night

7 Ordinary Days

This diary was found open on a laptop with instructions on where to post it and how. The owners identity was never uncovered, as the laptop was found in a public library. Patrons who were at the library on the day the laptop was discovered stated that they never saw anyone come in with it, or leave without it. No body was discovered.

The Diary

Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity. – Hanlon's Razor

An ordinary day. Any worthwhile journey starts with an ordinary day. This is something I used to hear the writers at my work say. I was a graphic programmer. At the height of my hubris, I considered myself a god of sorts. It was easy to let the ability to make entire worlds go to your head...but...come to think of it...I wonder if I was the only one to take such a view of that work. But I digress, as I have come to do quite frequently in my old age. Now...where was I...oh yes...an ordinary day. The ordinary days of my life stack in the thousands...that is to say, very few of my days were weird. Though my nieces and nephews...my brothers and sisters view my loss of memory with trepidation, I see it as a blessing. The ordinary days are all that remain for me, and all that I can remember is ordinary.

I live 358 days out of the year. 359 if it's a leap year. Although I do not remember why...or how...a week is always missing from my life. One week for each year that passes. I don't think it was always this way, but it is not for me to know...what was that old saying? Ignorance is bliss....ah...and such bliss. I know that I don't know, which is a paradox to most. If you know that you don't know, wouldn't you want to find what you have forgotten? I have tried, though only once in a foolish attempt to regain what could be a whole year of my life, and I now understand, if only at the most subconscious of levels. You see...when I was younger...in my thirties...I kept a diary still, somehow believing that the events of my exceedingly ordinary life would be of interest to others. I've tried to read over my diaries to see where this phenomenon started. They're all stored on a text file on my desktop. Though I have stopped making entries, as the boldness of my youth has left me, the file stands at 27,259 pages...with just over one week completely invisible to me. The text stops suddenly at the end of July ---- and begins again after the first week of August. A large break exists where the text should be, and highlighting the area suggests that I have something written there. I do not remember what happened during that week. I do not want to remember. I don't know why I don't want to remember...but it feels as if I have put a large locked door there. I dare not open it, as the strength and intensity of the door is far too overbearing. This same emptiness repeats at that same week every year, but this is the only year where something was written. The rest is perfectly ordinary.

I have learned, by showing this to others, that the text exists in the blank space, for anyone but me.

I am going to die today. It's not something I fear, and I know it will be peaceful, as all that could be anything but, has been spent. I don't know why I know this, but I know this. I am supposed to, even though I am not. I also know, that on that balancing second between life and death, when I am transitioning between worlds, I will see what has happened, and I will know the truth. This is the price I must pay for the ordinary life I lived. A life made to remain perfect ignorant of what I know...of what we know. I also know, that I must share my experience. I have yet to let anyone read beyond but a fragment of that first week, and all that was read was without meaning. (Although I know that is a lie to say it has no meaning). If you think I have done this with malice, then I am truly sorry, please know malice was not my intent. If you think I have done this with care, then I am truly sorry, as this holds no such soft place. If you think I have done this with ignorance, then I am truly sorry...because you are right.

31-July-ᆠ⋼ấು

08:47 A.M.

Good morning Diary... Another ordinary day... Actually...not really. As you know, the crunch time has hit, and it's hit me rather hard, I've had to take a leave of absence due to stress. HR and my boss weren't happy about it in the least, but I couldn't stay in the office for another hour, let alone a week. I promised I would still assist with the programming, but it's all been a bit too much, too soon. My parents only passed two weeks ago...and my brothers and sisters still won't talk to me. They know I've never been social, and it seems they intend to help keep it that way. At any rate (as I'm so prone to saying), I'm going to take today to relax and work on the main batch executable they sent me. It appears...somewhere deep inside, there is a call line referencing a file path that doesn't exist...the program launches, but after a couple minutes eats up huge amounts of memory. Our code checkers are listing that call line as the number one problem...the only really strange things about this error are the facts that one...it's not putting up an error like it's supposed to. Two, each checker put out a different number for the call line that is causing this...which shouldn't be possible. On a happier note, Rose asked to meet me for coffee; I could use a break with a good friend.