Why like this ya

This is what it feels like.

I am stationary. Everything in my immediate vicinity is moving at a glacial place. Slowly slowly, like honey dripping from a little glass bottle full of ants who have met their glorious sticky end into a waiting bowl. Everything just beyond that is moving very fast. Like a car on Western Express Highway at 2am with a slightly inebriated girl in the back seat looking out the open window with joy, so much joy.  

The speed of life is inversely proportional to the distance from me.

I am the centre of a record on a gramophone?

I am an idiot.