Because of some video I watched last night

His dilemma presented itself as follows: to trust in his own soul, accepting his own power -- or to spend the time fretting and sweating over the nothingness that he felt certain was creeping along behind him, threatening to overtake him with its breathless murmurings. At these moments, it seemed to him that the universe would collapse on itself, its vastness contained on the head of a pin, the instant of intersection between his own fate and the infinite now of creation held for a stifling moment, after which one of two things inevitably happened: the he who was he before he was born would break through to the other side, run like hell for the border, and make something kick-ass out of the agony of the preceding hours (usually followed by a shot of whiskey); or he would succumb to the pounding rhythm of mortality and the imagined limits of our meager lives, and lose the rest of the day to a haze of doubt and confusion (usually followed by a shot of whiskey).