Pothole

How I wish for an accident! A slip on the stairs, or an ankle sprain in a pothole. Or, a merely innocent one. How I wish for an accident, not in the realm of sensations, but in the absence of existence.

Such is a lament of mine.

We perceive reality as a smooth experience. By smooth I mean consecutive, and infinitely divisible. Yes, we forget events or confuse them regularly. But, we never experience the gap between any two given moments. It all comes as a continuous stream.

The reality, of course, is not like that. One can produce a false sense of continuity with only 24 images per second. Our consciousness is an aggregation. Yet, I never found my senses failing to produce me.

They surely fail. But whenever they fail, I fail to exist, consequently never perceiving failure at all.

So, I yearn for the illogical, the contradiction, the corporeal impossibility. An accident, not the physical kind, but an accident of existence letting me take a peek at our inexistence, a gap in the continuity, a glitch, a missing thread that never was yet missing.