So far, it only seems to occur when I am trying to eat: a tiny, neglected fragment of information, perched upon the tip of my tongue; stinging repeatedly into the soft tissues like an agitated wasp -- and all of the teeth in the world powerless to budge it. Yet, despite my discomfort, I continually fail to become agitated in response. Instead, my sympathy for stupid people wells up inside me, as would a mild nausea; and I find myself craving starchy food -- a craving always doomed to remain unfulfilled.

Even when this condition has been at its worst -- if "worst" is something that can be considered in a world without end -- I have still remained steadfast in my determination to eat regularly.
 
In an unrelated matter, I could see the dark promise of the future lurking in the trees this afternoon while I was out in the neighbourhood, once again foraging for relief. It fluttered back and forth from branch to branch: never resting, yet never quite committed to a course of action. This in itself did not disturb me so much; it was when it began to follow me on the ground, swiveling from one side to the other in its clumsy, lopsided gait, that -- I am forced to admit -- I could not help but fail to prevent the hairs on the back of my neck from stiffening with foreboding. I quickened my pace, but the shame of this cowardly response became too much for me to abide. I decided then to confront my fears and so turned abruptly, widening my eyes to their fullest extent to be certain that nothing escaped my notice.
 
My pursuer was much closer behind me than I had anticipated. For a fleeting moment we stood eye-to-eye, just before its head bolted off up a nearby tree like a frightened squirrel. The body was thus left stranded, senseless and immobile; and this is how I preferred things to be.