As time goes on, things slip even further beyond my control, my ambit, my grasp. I cannot seem to connect the last few threads, I cannot seem to complete the last jobs, I’m a helpless onlooker at the mercy of other people and events, despite my very best efforts. The more I strive, the less is achieved. Time drifts by unconcerned with my anxiety and urgency, laughing at my discomfort, sneering at my endeavours.
I’m like the cross-country runner I once was as a boy, who has cleared all the difficult hurdles and ploughed fields ahead of everyone else and is now on the home straight, a level road with plain running down to the finish line, only to hear 2 other bigger and older boys running up fast behind me and overtaking me as the finish line comes in sight. Not only that but (in my imagination) the organisers decide to move the finish line further away from me, as I’m running towards them. The bigger boys, now, are Time and Death, and the race organisers now are Events and Complications.
AS TIME GOES ON, THINGS SLIP
