Where does time come from and where does it go. Why does all the fun I have disappear into a void. But likewise all the bad things go there to. I'd like to think I could follow the time or more forward into it, but no matter how 'fast' or 'slow' it appears to go by it apparently always stays the same, no faster, no slower. When you're little everything seems to go so slow and when you grow up we always think it goes by too fast. I like to think that the time that has passed us by is now in someone else's world. Somewhere slightly smaller and then it goes on through to the next world, getting smaller each time until it is just a fragment of it's former self, denying someone the pleasure of using it slowly. It's gone all too soon.

But here lies a problem. Today I deliberately let a time slowing substance sink into my mind, letting my mind hear every single slow heart beat and every single slow breath beneath the surface. If I let it get loud enough every other noise disappears and I can hear and feel my heart beating inside my ears. Then there is a slight ringing and I can take myself back to all the external noises and then back inside my head again. But as it all wears off to see the end of another day, I realise it was just a slowing down of the day, a tick tock tick tock that prolongs the agony of another night. Prolongs the agony of another nightmare.