do we comprehend the world though the tenses of our language or does our language reflect the way we comprehend the world? in other words, the depth of my insanity lies within time

my past is my present. alive and looming. present time is endless, empty. stalled. it has been eons since i woke and also no time at all and i have done nothing in this interminable silence. i start movies and abandon them, novels, countless half stories half read because i cannot bear to think of any of it existing minutes or days or hours from now. of me existing. there is no future tense here because i cannot bear it.

i see past and future all at once. paralysis. detaching from the real world i guess. i see beginnings and deterioration. the way gravity drags at the face, the knees. all those dreams abandoned long ago, those same glowing dreams not-yet-unfurled. discordant harmony. how can i move, how can i breathe? i see my fate and it seems empty. i see my 10-year-old eyes and they echo the same. same as my mother's. are we more than who we were born, than what was given to us? 

are we more than what we cannot achieve? 

should i be grateful that i continue to exist, despite all urges to the contrary? it's hard to make sense of all this time i've got. or not got. depending on how you're seeing it. 

oh wait. now i've got drugs. awesome. sometimes not thinking is the best cure. sometimes not thinking is the only thing keeping me existing at all.