Neighborhood memory.

I’ve been staring at the wall for an hour because I just realized I can’t remember what color my front door used to be.

I know that sounds stupid. It’s a door. But I have this distinct memory of it being a dark, weathered wood—something with character. I remember the way it creaked. But I just went for a grocery run, and now the door is white. It’s a smooth, clinical, perfect white. There’s no creak. There’s no scratch from when I dragged my desk through it 3 years ago. It looks like it was installed five minutes ago.

This has been happening more recently. But it’s only my memories of my house or this neighborhood. I forgot to put my trash out last night, it happens right? Had a few too many beers. I woke up to the sound of the garbage truck stopping. That classic sound of hydraulics. I sprinted to the door hoping to catch them, it took me 10 seconds max. But when I opened the door, my bin was being lifted. Dumped into the truck. I know I didn’t bring it out to the curb last night. 

You know that uncanny feeling of something being different but you can’t quite name it. I had it again. The houses, the empty ones. Their doors changed as well, I think. I remember each door being the exact same color. Now, they had different ones. Some one of the colors clashed weird too. Like a dark blue house with a vibrant orange door. 

I sat in my car for twenty minutes today just gripping the steering wheel because I couldn't remember if I’ve ever actually seen the interior of the house next door. I know I told you guys they were empty, but as I sat there, I started thinking have I always known that before looking into ░▒░▒░▒░░▒░▒░▒░  house? Or did I just decide that at some point to make the silence make sense? I looked at the dark blue house with that hideous orange door, and for a split second, I swear I saw a silhouette move behind the glass. Not like a person walking, but more like a shadow being dragged across a wall. I blinked and it was gone. It’s like the neighborhood is trying to populate itself now that I’ve started asking questions, but it’s doing a rush job. It’s getting the colors wrong. It’s getting the 'feeling' of a home wrong. It’s like it was guessing.

On top of that, when night rolled around. The houses had their porch lights on. It took me a while to even realize it. They had never been on in three years, yet it took me some time to even notice. The worst part. It’s not a warm, inviting glow. It’s that harsh, LED white—the kind that makes everything look like a sterile hospital wing. I stood on my lawn and looked down the length of ▓▒▓▒▓▒ Drive, and every single one of those houses was lit up, perfectly synchronized. No one was inside turning them on; there was no click of a switch. They just were. And the grocery run I mentioned? I checked my pantry when I got back. I bought three boxes of the exact same cereal. I don't even like that brand. I don't remember putting them in the cart. I don't remember the drive back. I just remember the white door waiting for me.

I need a break, maybe working too hard. Or something. I am going to go visit my parents for a weekend, just to get away. Please, if anyone knows something. Or maybe a theory, please let me know. I cannot be going crazy.