“Time is a companion that goes with us on a journey. It reminds us to cherish each moment, because it will never come again. What we leave behind is not as important as how we have lived.” ~ ~ Captain Jean-Luc Picard
Zero hour. Day. Era. Epoch. Eon. Aeon.
Z subdivides along a non-unilinear line. Stopping milliseconds to absorb, dispel, bask.
Those are the fragments where a thought filters through.
Z assembles the pieces. Z experiences every emotional spectrum idea, searching for
Z does not believe in love. Love, to Z, equates to Pain.
Pain is a constant. Love=Pain never has/is/will be love ≠ pain. It is exact. For Z, it is exact.
There are no approximates.
Any/every instance Love touches Z is followed by an infinite drop.
Z is lost.
Inside, Z is lost in gathering specifics. The pure, unwavering distillation of Z’s perception of Love.
The amassing is complete.
Z stretches the limits of time to compact and keep.
The next second arrives.
Without the pain association. Z is blocking out the aftermath, the thrown away aspect, the being left, unnoticed, unwanted.
Another point arrives. The whole splinters.
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Yes, I would sometimes equate love with pain. Doesn’t seem right, but that’s just the way it is sometimes.
Tossing It Out
Yup. Been there. Don’t want to visit again.
Oh & that was unexpected… or not. Very punch in the stomach powerful Stu.
A-Zing from Fiction Can Be Fun
Normally found at Debs Despatches
Not a terribly hard one, I hope.
Love certainly can be painful. And, from a certain perspective, might always equal pain. Because, I mean, you’re going to lose the person eventually, or they will lose you. Is that where Z is coming from here? I suppose… oh hold on, that’s interesting. Maybe from a liquid-time perspective, love is always pain, because of that moment of loss. If time is all happening at one moment, the loss is always right there. Is that what you were going for?
Pain is constant.
Ding ding ding