Come with me, my love,
To the sea, the sea of love.
I wanna tell you how much I love you.
Do you remember when we met?
That's the day I knew you were my pet.
I wanna tell you how much I love you.
Come with me, to the sea of love.
It finally hit me - the term is 'Nausea'. Sartre wrote the novel, I heard about it, but I've never read it. It came to visit again today, which prompted me to put two and two together and go find out a bit more about the book. My knowledge of the text is far from comprehensive (read: Wikipedia, booknotes, etc.), but the extensive quotations I came across suffice to draw the connection between Nausea and my previously nameless nostalgia-dejavu-nausea complex. It hits with a raw intensity exactly as (physical) nausea does, but with a strikingly acute sense of static dislocation from temporal occupations or perceptual existence, and the combination - a cloying headiness - is downright revolting. Imagine being suspended in a bubble and forced to watch its impenetrable but translucent walls getting constantly bombarded from the outside. You get both senses of insulation as well as being overwhelmed, which sounds a bit like some variant of cognitive dissonance.
In other words, it attacks all aspects of experience: the physical, emotional and intellectual. Before making some sense of it, as I've just happened to, the intellectual component manifested only as a startlingly painful awareness of a sterile vacuity, which I've discovered is a direct result of "the fact that inanimate objects and situations remain absolutely indifferent to his existence. As such, they show themselves to be resistant to whatever significance human consciousness might perceive in them." (Wikipedia, Jean Paul Sartre) It's intuitive and quite self-explanatory so I won't bother, mostly because I won't be able to do it any justice whatsoever. It's an experience so richly nuanced despite being completely sickening and elusively difficult to pin down, but I will eventually get my head around it.
In other words, it attacks all aspects of experience: the physical, emotional and intellectual. Before making some sense of it, as I've just happened to, the intellectual component manifested only as a startlingly painful awareness of a sterile vacuity, which I've discovered is a direct result of "the fact that inanimate objects and situations remain absolutely indifferent to his existence. As such, they show themselves to be resistant to whatever significance human consciousness might perceive in them." (Wikipedia, Jean Paul Sartre) It's intuitive and quite self-explanatory so I won't bother, mostly because I won't be able to do it any justice whatsoever. It's an experience so richly nuanced despite being completely sickening and elusively difficult to pin down, but I will eventually get my head around it.
At this point, Nausea is just a label. It seems to fit but it might not be exactly what I'm looking for. It's awful but I've been struggling with it since childhood (even worse, with utter confusion and barely rudiments of any understanding) and occurrences have dwindled substantially, thank goodness, but they are still irksome. I need to find out more, but I've first got to put this aside for a better time to do that.
p.s. If anyone knows exactly what I'm talking about, you also know what to do. It would mean a lot.
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