Excerpt: The Heartless: your voice sings my dreams

I stopped counting the world in seconds a long time ago.
That was when I first realized that it didn’t make sense, the numbers and the calendars and the dates and the months and the clocks, and life ran by like music: in beats. One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four, everyone singing their songs and weaving them together into one bigger song as life beats on below on some sublevel, one-two-three-four.
I’ve sung a lot of different songs in my life, and had a lot of different songs sung to me, but this is new. I’m in a room with twelve other people, and me and every single last one of them are singing the same damn song:
Therapy is shit.