It was all impinging on me. It was impinging on me from all sides. Impinging, impinging, impinging. I wished it would stop impinging like that – it really didn’t feel good. A dozen different conversations pressing in on me, as if they were actually taking place inside my head. Get out of my head, I wanted to say. Get out, get out, get out. Get out of my damn head. The shock of it bursting in on me like that. It was a reality implosion and I was the only casualty. Everything was so horribly bright, so horrible vivid, so horribly garish. This was so up close and personal that it wasn’t even personal any more. The person had been imploded and so there wasn’t a person. The person wasn’t there anymore. There was only the super-vivid reality implosion taking place in my head only it wasn’t my head any more. My head had exploded inwards under the force of it all like some kind of pointless stupid brittle egg-shell type thing. I had no head. Reality was running free, running riot. There was just the electric up-close clamour of those conversations pressing in on me like a crowd of people walking right through me as if I wasn’t even there. Without so much as a by your leave. All there was was the reality implosion but I can tell you it was kind of weird – bad weird – having all that going on in my head and my head not being there anymore. I didn’t like it at all I can tell you only the really painful thing was that I wasn’t actually there to like it or not like it! It wasn’t that no one was asking me whether it was OK to be talking in my head like that – that would have been fine by me, that would have been no problem at all. I wouldn’t have minded being flagrantly ignored and trampled over – at least this would have been something, at least this would have given me something to be getting on with, something to work with. What had just happened had left me nothing to work with. Nothing at all. I was shocked with how little it left me with because it didn’t leave me anything and I really didn’t know how to handle that. It didn’t actually matter how I handled it because now I was redundant. I was absolutely redundant. Even saying that I was absolutely redundant in that situation is giving the wrong impression – the sentence construction is making me sound relevant when I wasn’t. Language can be so deceptive, don’t you think? It creates things that don’t exist. Everything was as sharp and vivid as it was, as crystal clear as it was, because I wasn’t there. There was just the air and the voices ringing out in the air. All those people talking. There was just it all happening. Needless to say this really bugged the hell out of me – I got out of the bus at the next stop and walked the rest of the way into town.