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Sharing the Hate, Spreading the Pain: On Sleeping in an Unmarked Grave

by on Mar.06, 2008, under Articles, Sharing the Hate

If it all started with waking up, it would all have to end with sleeping? At least, that is what I thought as I dazed in and out of consciousness resting on a generic black leather couch that was neither long enough to support my height, nor wide enough for me to rest properly on my back. A yellow light shone through the window frame at the corner of the room, but the couch itself, up against the window blocked those harmful rays from my eyes.

Crepuscular rays glistened off the wooden thin pressboard coffee table. I have to laugh that the pale wood compliments the three or four beams that pierce through the windowsill, over the couch, and onto the table. Time to retreat until dusk settles over the grim horizon. At that time, there will be no continuance. This dusk brings a numb state of indifference I set out for from the offset of this experiment.

Some would state that I do not laugh much these days. I do not go outside much, so there is no way for others to tell how much I do or do not laugh. They are gravely mistaken. I often laugh too much, and when it is most inappropriate. That is what got me into this mess to begin with.

Was there a start to this mess? I cannot remember, for it has been far too long. All I know is in the here and the now, Ravel’s Bolero hums in the distance in a room that used to contain an air mattress, which now contains a bamboo mat.

The weeks seem like days, and the days seem like hours. Hours on the other hand creep by at the rate of months. How much time has really passed? The concept of time is an interesting one. Perhaps if I realize how time is currently passing perceptively, I might get a better grasp in general.

The movement of time is relevant to the individual and their perception of its passing. When one is having a good time, the speed of time races. When one is having a bad time, the speed of time crawls to a halt. Those are universally accepted norms about the passing of time. The nihilist in me says that this theory is false on the premise that it is a widely accepted tradition.

Time also races when one drones and shuts down. To this regard time moves slower during times of awareness and change. When people just exist time moves quicker than when they are having a good time. Perhaps this is a cruel joke that time plays on the worthless. They do not deserve to enjoy time, so it races out of their control. Looking back, they wondered where all the time went, and then spend their time searching for forgotten answers to a past now lost. What started this mess? I think now that the root trigger is irrelevant.

If one is completely depressed then the speed of time also passes quickly, because the mind has shut down. This safety mechanism exists to induce a state of numbness so time can heal all wounds. Another interesting fallacy since time does not heal certain wounds. Time here will only leave scars. People become bitter over time for the sake of being bitter. That is the scar left behind by time. They know not why they hate, they simply hate. Perhaps, I have become bitter as of late? My mind has not shut down though.

To live in the moment, means that one does not engage in any of the mechanisms that would speed time forward. I cannot sleep now so time itself cruelly moves slower than ever before. To be discontent leads to boredom, and that boredom is the mind’s ability to open itself up to change. Boredom slows the passage of time only in that it makes one think.

Thinking is the only real way to slow down time, since any activity that alleviates the power of the mind speeds time up. That could explain people’s addictions to mind altering substances.

Some would argue that even if it ends with sleeping, one still awakens in the morning starting the process over again. That has to say that one is sleeping at night, and has a clock to verify the passage of time. The nihilist in me says otherwise. I think to myself that, “Yes, these seconds creep by at the rate of years.”

sincelery,
Leo

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