Time passes strangely here. It is slow, silent, flat, even empty often and yet at the same time, seemingly endless, but of course, this is an illusion. Pain makes the moment you are caught in, a terrible terrible place of unending agony. You know not how long it will torture you, nor how long you can bear it and yet bear it you must, on and on and on...You learn to live in its burning, throbbing, screaming grasp. You long for it to ease, to lessen, to cease to dominate your whole being. You beg for it to be taken from you. You pray it will not hurt you beyond your capability.
Linda Crowhurst
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