It's hard to conceive time sometimes. I know it's there, and I know it's passing, but I can't always get a good hold of it. Sometimes it seems that it loops back around or that it overlaps itself. After a while everything becomes constant--even the things that should shake me become so normal, so ordinary, that I'm hardly moved by even the hardest push. And then things come flooding back, and I lose myself, once again, in the rush of all the things that once were gone.