Time is relative, and at the moment it all seems to be converging at one point. It is a laser, cutting into my mind, performing an operation with random precision. There is no anaesthetic for this operation, and no science behind it. It is just time’s sadistic way of saying I am at its mercy. Time is not on my side; time is the enemy.
I am so glad that it’s an illusion! Somewhere, beyond this sense of being overwhelmed, is the peace of knowing that none of it matters, that nothing is real. Somewhere.
For the moment it feels real. For the moment it seems that I am incapable of coping, that I am being overrun. There is no peace in this, just desperate grasping at a rescue device tantalizingly close but still out of reach.
The rescue device is understanding; the incapacity comes from thinking I know. Every time I approach understanding, I begin to think I know, and the oscillation happens; every time I see I know nothing, I begin to understand, and it turns back the other way. Wave motion.
And at the moment the wave is big and I am drowning.