January 27th, 2011
Is this real or is this just a dream? I gotta know -- things are weird now.
I was going to go to sleep when the catecholamine surge hit me and my heart started going at a thousand beats a minute. It wasn't really panic. It was a call to arms. I had to get up and I had to do something active. It was like a call from some higher power telling me to go do something, so damned if I didn't do it.
I haven't seen another living being for a while now. All the clocks are dead. Everything's quiet. I think this is some sort of suspended animation. I've just been sitting here, writing. Writing for hours. Writing code, writing poetry, writing personal ads, writing anything that came to mind.
But the thing is that I'm not feeling tired. It feels more like I've been cocooned in a comfortable shell and I just broke out of it. I know I have work later today. I know I should be tired. But I don't feel it.
Maybe -- just maybe -- there's a reason for this. Maybe I have to keep writing. But what happens if I stop? Does everything return to normal? Can anything go back to normal?
I'm consumed by this question -- it determines what I ought to be doing right now. Is this what I want to keep doing right now? It's like I tore a hole through the fabric of time and everything is irreversible. Or is it?
I remember reading once a theory about the Matrix. Neo breaks out of the computer-based reality. And then later -- in the real world -- he finds himself with extraordinary powers again. Almost like he broke through that reality as well. So, at that point, is Neo ever going to stop trying to break through?
I don't think so. I don't know. I have to put my foot down and say "Damn the consequences." I have to be me, even if the consequences are as severe as my slightly paranoid mind is wont to think.
It's all so fragmented and I can't keep track of what I've already said. Not with this damned drumming of keys that my fingers are pounding out, but no one's waking up to this.
I know at some point, there has to be a limit. There has to be a point at which I stop and sleep Either I'll never wake up and this won't matter or I will wake up. If I wake up, will everything be back to normal? What if it isn't?
I don't know -- but I beg of you. If you're real, tell me whether or not this is the same reality as it was yesterday. Give me news of your own predicament. Do you have a story like mine? Share it with me not unlike the pilgrims in the inn of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales from so long ago.
I'm not inclined to wait until my physical endurance has given out. I need an answer now. I'm going to stop typing right now. Here's to hoping this works.
Does this have to do with the kidney stone thing? Seriously, I know from personal experience that lack of sleep literally makes you crazy and hallucinate. Anyone would to some degree with severe sleep deprivation, but with some(AHEM... ME) it can get quite bad. I encourage you to find a way to put a stop to it. If you want to read about my predicament, you can here- http://majesticarky.livejournal.com/260674.html
. It happened late September of last year.
Maybe I shouldn't be talking, I'm up past 4 am too! DAMN MONSTER HUNTER. When I intentionally stay up late these hours it's kind of like playing Russian Roulette where the bullet is extreme psychological distress.
To me, it almost seems like you are having a manic phase. A friend of mine kind of likes to do that. He feels especially creative and likes to deprive himself of sleep for over 50 hours sometimes. It can be brought on not only with sleep deprivation, but it seems like the drugs are helping too? I experience something like that, I suppose, sometimes, and when I do in the middle of the night, I like to update LJ either by writing some very emo entry or just a general update.
To answer your questions, YES things go back to normal. And unless you are one of those existentialists, the reality which was yesterday is the same reality as today. YOUR reality is a little off, but it's understandably so.
This is more like sitting in a room full of organic chemicals and waiting to see if the leaking batteries around you create a spark and parthenogenesis or if they strike you down first.
The end is unknown only the means by which it might continue.
You all right?
Things are only as they are without a concept of right or wrong. In the absence of all other things, one can only consider them as things. Things are things. I am a thing. This thing continues to be and will continue to be, but when I won't be able to tell when it isn't or will not be. Maybe I am the same thing as before. Maybe I'm not.
In as much as I can, I will continue the long, slow march that my fingers make across this keyboard. I need to see what will happen more than I need to stop.
I'm here. I don't know if I am real. I don't even know if I know what real is anymore. But I'm here.
I woke up this morning. I checked the time and found I was late for class. In my haste to dress and prepare for class, I failed to notice the small signs that something was amiss. For instance, I failed to notice that the hands of my clock were moving a bit too fast.
By the time I left my apartment, it was dark. This made no sense--my clock had read 11 AM. I went back inside and I saw the hour hand spinning--slowly, but noticeably faster than it should be.
I dug out my watch--I'd stopped wearing it a few months ago because the wristband had snapped. Its hands were going faster than my clock, slowly and continually speeding up. I looked outside to find it was light again.
Next, of course, I did what I always do: I checked the internet. Through a fast survey of my friends page, I found this post. I will reply as quickly as I can. By the time my reply posts, who knows what the time will be--it seems that space and time have fractured. Perhaps you will be able to respond. Perhaps you will never even receive this message and by the time it posts, you will be long dead. I do not know, but I am trying.
This is not the same reality there was yesterday. There is no yesterday, or rather, the yesterdays go by so fast now that the idea of "yesterday" becomes abstract, an idea rather than an actual point in time.
The days are going by so fast now that daylight is blinking in and out like a strobe light. Either my personal time has somehow slowed down or the world has somehow sped up. I'm not sure which is a more likely possibility.
I'm not sure how long I can keep going like this. My head is pounding from the flashing of the lights and the whirring of the planet spinning far too fast. I'm afraid to go to sleep, for fear that when I wake up, I'll have reached the heat death of the universe and the world will no longer exist. But I am so tired. I've been awake for I-don't-even-know-how-long...my eyelids feel so heavy...I will try to stay awake to wait for a reply. As long as I can stand this without going mad...but I am here.
The limits of physical endurance define the scope of the possibilities. If we continue, then perhaps something will happen. If we don't, then it surely won't.
I cannot tell if it is a new day or not. Every time I begin to stop, I'm taken with such dread at my resignation that I must continue.
My arms are aching and I haven't eaten in days -- you must be the same in some other tear.
Perhaps we are time travelers, reunited for one brief instant. Let us briefly commune and embrace in the knowledge of our shared pain. Perhaps each of our comments are destined for one another, but they'll arrive at random times and we know not when precisely, they'll make it there.
I only hope you are old enough to comprehend this message when it appears to you.
What happens when the physical breaks with the temporal?
I'm sure at this point it's been years since I've last eaten. But I'm not hungry--it only feels like it's been a few hours.
I think there is a war going on. Out there. I took refuge in a storm drain. Something is dripping into the drain with me.
It's not water.
I don't know how I have wireless down here.
Whatever is happening, things are moving.