[ WP ] : You do n't remember what you do for a living . Literally . You black out for 8 hours 5 days a week and a paycheck appears once per month .

It had never been anything special, my life. I had an average upbringing, with avera parents. We lived in a small house in a tiny cul-de-sac in the city ’ s east side. I had a few friends growing up, played sports in middle school but grew out of them in high school. I did alright in school, had a couple of girlfriends, and gotten drunk at prom. Nothing really horrible or great ever happened. At least, not that I could remember. 
 
 Life these days was like a blur, and with every passing day I forgot a little bit about myself. But that was normal, right? Growing up, we leave our past selves behind and become... something else. I didn ’ t really mind. I was living. I ’ m not sure when I started to be like this, maybe when I started working, but I couldn ’ t even remember that. Every day I ’ d wake up at 5AM, make some eggs, jog around the block of my apartment complex, shower, then... I forget. I always forget, but I must do something. I always received a stub in the mail from my payment, and I never heard from my landlord or anyone else asking for money. You don ’ t get paid if you don ’ t work, right? 
 
 I used to try really hard to remember what I did. I ’ d wake up on my couch exhausted, sometimes with cuts or bruises, a sunburn, ink on my hands, or worse. One day I woke up after work and couldn ’ t move my body. I fell asleep and missed my routine, woke up the next evening in bed and got up to piss. It couldn ’ t be that unusual. Everybody had to work, right? 
 
 I remember I looked for a different job once. I had to fill out a form and I couldn ’ t answer anything about my employment history, and it took everything I had to remember the name of my high school. I tried to think about my job, but it gave me a bastard of a headache I had to sleep off to get rid of. I don ’ t remember what I ended up doing with that form. 
 
 This was life though. This is what everyone did when they grew up. Get a job, a place to live, food to eat. I didn ’ t really have to answer to anyone what I did, so it didn ’ t really matter. I was an adult now. This is what adults do. This is what I do. 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- 
 
 I woke to a loud crack and my head shot up, a string of drool attached to the desk I had laid my head on. I looked around and saw everyone ’ s faces staring back at me, girls giggling under their breath while the guys snickered. 
 
 “ I suppose you don ’ t have the answer do you Mr. Latcher? ” 
 
 I rubbed my eyes and looked at the teacher, her brows furrowed and a growing scowl upon her face. 
 
 “ I guess I don ’ t ma ’ am. ” 
 
 I was honest at least, but that didn ’ t seem to please her. “ I ’ ve had about enough of this. Please go see the Dean. ” 
 
 I got up and walked out of the classroom into an empty hall, just like that empty apartment and the empty neighborhood. This isn ’ t what I wanted. Maybe I had to start taking things a bit more seriously.
