Forced up onto the shrill surface of yourself in ridiculous predicaments determined by other subjectivities. Nothing new here at all, fortune and men's eyes. The cricketers wonderful term, 'to declare' - Why can't you just declare, end the game and admit that it was all over long ago, from the moment when... x or y or z, and luxuriate in defeat? Catch yourself in the act. Have you anything to declare? Well, now that you ask, no. This is exactly how it doesn't work. None of these labelled experiences is actually experience at all. It floats like a mirage some way away. You want to tether the experiencing to some stake in the game, pretend that it has an interest, but you can't yoke together two faces that respond to such different levels of reality. Suffering is the inexorable causality of the unreal, and logic proves nothing except itself in an elaborate game of concealing its premises under layers of conclusions, an ironic terms for exactly what never concludes.