You're standing at the base of the Empire State Building looking up and watching thousands and thousands of meters of building structure come crashing down on your head in very, very slow motion. You want to run, but there's really nowhere to go. You want to cry, but it won't do anything. All you can do it wait for it to be over.
You've all of a sudden been told that one of your legs has to be removed. There's nothing wrong with it, but you just can't have it anymore. You are being drafted to war in two months anyways.
You've been writing a book for ten years. In those ten years, you've been unemployed, starving, and living in rock-bottom poverty. You know that you will make a lot of money from this book, and the only thing keeping you alive is the prospect of a better life once you've finished the book. The day before you plan to turn the book in for publication, a fire destroys your only manuscript.
You have been running for ten days and nights straight. You desperately need one short rest, but you can't stop because if you do, you'll fall instantly into the hands of what you're running from and you'll be destroyed. But if you keep running without resting, you might die. So you keep running, not knowing whether you'll be alive or not in the end.
Now put them all together so that they are happening simultaneously.
The world is a bleak, dark place.