Time is relative, I believe. It passes at a consistent rate in reality, but perception is the key.
Twenty minutes can seem like ages or simply fly by.
It’s directly related to the occupation of the mind. Time flies when you’re having fun, right? I guess that means it drags by when you’re miserable.
I mean, I have found this to be true.
State of Occupancy of my Mind: Full.
Rate of the Passage of Time: Sloth-like.
I’m not miserable, just thoughtful. I sit around and just think about stuff.
So, these past three days have literally felt like a week. It’s quite exhausting when you finally realize that the time you’ve spent is only a fraction of the time you felt.
I can imagine that this is what my personal hell would feel like. I’ll be suspended in time, at a viscous pace. Everything will be zooming by me, while I move slower than dirt. I feel like I am always late, always behind, always missing out.
Now, this happens to me about every month or so. I start to fall out of time with everyone else.
Imagine life as a piece of sheet music and we are all participating in the orchestra. We are all instruments in this beautiful cacophony. Everyone is in tune and keeping rhythm with everyone else. It is beautiful, tragic, and true. Then there is this trumpet that is three notes behind everyone else, off key and generally lost. I am the trumpet. Always.
I feel like I’m moving through Jell-o. It’s awful.
It’s not just my thoughts that can’t quite keep up, it’s my emotions too.
Normal reactions to things like death, new life, pain, joy, sadness are all dull or absent.
Someone has died. “Oh,” I say.
Someone is pregnant. “Oh,” I say.
I burned myself on the stove. “Oh,” I say.
“Oh.”
It has taken me a bit to realize that this is commonly referred to as ‘apathy’.
Or ‘I just don’t give a shit.’
This is not a good feeling.
I am the trumpet.
