There are times when one comes close to doubt reality.
Times when one starts seriously pondering the existence of time beyond the obvious existence of time as in nature of seasons changing.
Times when death doesn’t seem to be much different than life; when death seems to be not just continuation of life after the moment of physical demise of bodily processes, but a constant process that is following life as a being breathes each moment.
Times when the necessity to keep going and doing things different to survival of one’s body and mind is meaningless, for all effort is vain considering the eventual bane of physical life.
Times when even survival of one’s body and mind makes no sense anymore considering eventual and absolute bane of physical life.
Times when breathing is the only thing that seems to be real, for nothing else seems to matter.
Those are the times when I say to myself that wondering about reality of things is what is going to drive me up the wall sooner than I’d know, and persistence of marching through the day today counts as a good reminder of a good effort tomorrow and I have to keep going forward one step at a time because what the fuck else am I going to do today?!
[the image is the segment of the painting by Salvador Dali “Persistence of Memory” 1931 copied from https://www.moma.org/collection/works/79018%5D