His brain felt like it was a piece of
clay being fired. Thoughts piled up like silt, leaving him feeling
muffled and buried. A thousand scenarios and a hundred identities
flew through his consciousness, to the point where they didn't even
register any more. His thoughts lacked structure. Nothing amounted
to much. No feeling was stirred, no conclusion reached, seemingly no
progress toward anything. It felt like a catch 22, to have his
thoughts get traction required a new foundation, which required
thoughts making a difference in the first place.
At the center of his mind there was a
black hole. An event horizon of stress and pressure that exerted a
pain like joints being pulled. It was as if some part of him wanted
to escape, but settled for pulling itself apart.
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