It’s seven in the morning but you would never know.  It feels more like nighttime to me.  January, and the sky is a blank, uniform gray.  There is light enough to see, but a diffuse light, making it impossible to pinpoint its source, you would never know it was the sun.  It feels artificial and not quite right, like the idea of what daylight is, if someone who had never seen were asked to picture it in their minds.  This only helps to prove my latest thought, that there really is no such thing as days anymore: no night and day or movement on the calendar, we are all just drifting.  Time still passes, but only because we refuse to see it’s untruth.  It helps us in our attempts to give significance to things.  Maybe time is real, maybe it doesn’t need us, though I tend to think that once there ceases to be anything that marks its passing, it will no longer be.  Like a long dead person who no longer has any descendents who can conjure up their name.  But I’m on to their game, and I’ve won.  My reward: now I am just drifting.  Are my feet even hitting the pavement?

  Does God mark time?  How can you mark time when you are eternal?  If you have just always been, with no beginning and no end, then even the existence of your creation can be nothing but a drop of water in an endless ocean of oceans, and not even worth mentioning.  You could hardly count time by looking at those creatures’ lives.  And can you count the days, the years, the eons by yourself?  But God is three anyway, and has himself for company in a way that not even the schizophrenic could understand. 

  And is that what eternity is anyway?  Could it just be an endless drifting, through gray nothingness, or perhaps in a bright shiny world of gold, where we do nothing but sing praises to God (because of course he is wonderful since he is the only reason we would be there, rather than mouldering in our graves without sense or burning in hell [does time have meaning, even in eternity, especially in eternity, when it is spent in the most wretched suffering?])?  Upon considering this, the thought of eternity, of existing forever, I cannot breathe.  My stomach feels like I have swallowed mercury: I feel its heaviness, with its poisons slowly taking place the place of my cells, and I might be sick.  My throat is being squeezed by some unseen hands, my head spins, I almost pass out.  Silently I am railing over and over at this unseen creator, this God that I have been convinced of, asking why he should make me to exist.  I am torn between the desire to kill myself and be done with this pointless waiting for answers and the desire to never die, wherein I only condemn myself to another form of eternity.

  When I first started thinking about that, I told a friend about it, about the crushing horror that it would bring on me, he told me it was only a manifestation of my fear of mortality.  But it isn’t, it is the opposite, it is the fear of my immortality.  I believe in the eternal, I hope annihilation.  Because what will that eternity be?  Will I suddenly know everything there is to know, and lose my curiosity, will I do nothing but worship the creator, and so lose my desire to experience, will I suddenly be perfect, and thus lose all of the flaws of human nature which I both love and hate in others?  What kind of world is a world in which everything is perfect, where ugliness, fear, sadness, and hate do not coexist with ugliness, security, happiness, and love, reminding us how precious they really are? 

  Which is worse, to exist forever, or to never exist again?  No matter what, no matter what the answer, it all boils down to being the same forever, stuck in a loop forever.  Some religions believe you can escape that loop, even if it is one of death and rebirth, rather than one of death and eternal life.  But then what?  The soul is still not destroyed.  Either we have no soul, and there is no eternity, except an empty eternity of non-being, and what we do on this earth in this life is everything, which is to say it is nothing, unless we care about the soulless creatures that we birth.  Or we have a soul, and we are eternal, in which case nothing that we do on this earth matters, except those pertaining to the saving of the soul, if you believe in the need for it.  And either way, it doesn’t even matter whether human beings continue on for many more millennia or all die out tomorrow.  But why would we be created to have a mortal life, rather than just be directly created into immortal life, like the angels?  And if we have been given free will, and so have the angels, then why are we allowed to fuck up as much as want, until the moment we die, and still have infinite forgiveness, but the angels step out of line only once, and they face that eternal punishment?  Given that, is it any wonder that the ones that have been cast away choose to spend their remaining time free bringing down as many of us as they can?