Diagenesis
There is no relief.
The very nature of the beast is a grinding sort of endlessness that pushes ever forward, while peeling the skin off your body, little by little.
At some point, inevitably, bone is struck.
Do you acquiesce? Do you yield? ( An ever so subtle difference there is in language, that you acknowledge at your core.)
Or instead, do you push forward? You are the grinding endlessness. You are the momentum that drives the wheel, spins the earth, turns the rock to powder. Cuts the lines.
You are the reason your skin will never be smooth. You are the reason your fingers will never be perfect. You are the reason that the process goes forward and leaves your body behind to rot.
You.
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You’re defragmenting in order to establish efficiency again. Stop it; you’ll hurt yourself. The tools of science cannot be used as the tools of the psyche. Rather try ‘merging’. You’ll find more peace that way. Good luck.
Again, I *understand*. . . intimately well.
As one of my fav song says, “as the blood that was black as it bleeds is red”.
If rotting is the end that we can’t avoid, why do we spend so much time being indecisive, wasting the fragile bits we possess? I doubt most of us believe that the end really exists.
No matter how much we love things and events, it all grinds to a halt.
But I like that. I have always had a fondness for change, though.