Motion Sickness

Driven by my cardinal desires, desperate and discordant, I recently diagnosed my prudent self with motion sickness. The unanimous vote of all cacophonies I’ve tenanted in my brain, the sonorous brittle solipsistic thoughts I have, declared I suffer from motion.

The ravenous curiosity and incompetent desire pleaded the case for my desperate drive to motivate, be galvanized and egoistic need to audacious claim I am a traveler of these barren multistories on concrete poured foundations. Anxiety anxiously acclaimed all acumen to onerously present its predicament; As fear supported her recluse for unnecessary change and vulnerability in trust and faith, hysteria roared for the restlessness of rest, and comfort of everlasting stimulation of arriving and leaving; at least to keep busy and a few things to forget. Depression was there, listening and paying no attention. Existence and responsibilities were arguing again because change dreaded them both imputed to different reasons. And coda arrived, in annotations of these statements and claims, my glasses fell and the camera focused, emotions of amazement and routine arrived, the dilemma surfaced; I have motion, for the sake of motion. Not for the destination, cause they’re always late or never there, neither for contentment, it’s a state of anxiety for a mind that feels great, and not even for leaving a place. I move, to arrive, arrive to leave, and leave just to arrive again, and that is my motion sickness.

The lover of physics, one who enamored science and mathematics. I, who claims to be one, has disputed myself in solutions based on simple logic. And motions solves that. Cause being drunk is a perfectly justified premise to base the argument for licentiousness. Shame on you to expect me to have a single belief system in my state of being free, loose and truthful to myself, and when I conceal my thoughts and converse with mortals. Justifications, for you or for me, who decides. And that’s why I have motion in my thoughts, and it leads me back to start. How would I otherwise justify my hypocrisy and misogyny? How else do you think I’ve fortified these knitted walls of absentia. How else would you justify my rush of dopamine on social approval on minutiae topics and posts on the virtual world of the internet; and my awareness of the placebo of its ephemeral false deceitful and valueless happiness. I move my thoughts, beliefs, as my situations change; and I end up changing me.

The same way there is no wrong decision; neither is there a right. Surrounded by a heap of choices, we just dissemble ourselves by segregating paths into right or wrong; brings us a sense of hegemony over our lives. Hapless or fortuitous, returns are irrespective of the choices we make, it's our own ability that gives value to the haphazard choices we make. I might not make much sense, I don’t intend to. But to encapsulate, I mean, that from the heap of life, we pick stems of choices, and we graft them into our lives, and then, we water the plant. No tree grows, if not watered, and as far as I have seen, all stems can grow. There is no one to blame, other than me if my trees are blighted.

What kindles my motion, ah, a pernicious nomad forages for things to chew, and ends up losing his appetite as soon as he looks at the food. I’m looking for love, tomorrow, not today. Everyday, till eternity. Today I’m interested in living my life, where I’ve arrived from yesterday, the day past, and all that shit before. Dread refutes my involvement in the momentary lapses people claim to have, the realization of being alone, in the world of people who are loved, because I’ve instructed it to. And I move, from love to love. And I end up with its absence. Just so you know, places and people are the least contributors to my sickness. I do not hitchhike to know this world, but to know myself. Elaborately gaze through the reflections of my prejudices and peccadilloes in other beings. There’s so much more to learn, that I always end up learning nothing. See, motion sickness.