Death, a major disruptor of life, can feel like a black hole, depleting all one’s energy, but death fails to be a black hole in one particular sense: it does not absorb all the time. Those who have to live through the days after a beloved’s death and those who are beset by debilitating depression will know this: time stands still, time feels monotonous, and then time becomes Sisyphus’s boulder. One carries it from morning to night, and if sleep comes, it’s but meager comfort with little relief. Then, one starts all over again the next day. The exhaustion one feels while mourning or battling
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