The Sins Of Reality

He felt the familiar cold streaks of lightning, like small jolts of cold blooded electricity that morphed into stabs of emptiness around the region of his chest, like sharpened blades that sliced away at his arteries from time to time. He wasn’t a fan of this feeling, but it had become a benign habit, so much so that it wasn’t discomforting, just something to be felt and shrugged off, like swatting away a few irksome flies taking a shit on his hard earned food.

Thinking about her always made him feel this way, especially since he had unknowingly and immaturely programmed his mind to assume the worst in any circumstance he found himself in, mostly personal circumstances which reflected in the women he developed feelings for. He couldn’t help it. He was an intensely emotional person, a streak that boiled over from time to time, when he couldn’t cope up with the depth of his developed feelings in light of it not being reciprocated sufficiently enough, not that he had a grudge against the non-reciprocators, since they probably had enough dynamism of their own in their personal lives. Still, he kept hoping for something, someone..content in the fact that he wasn’t an emotional fool, yet yearning for someone to challenge or engage with his feelings from time to time. Someone.

He wondered if he was overthinking, prone as he was to do so, dwelling over an intense sense of belonging that he somehow, for no fixed reason, always, always, felt with her, only to be severed because, sadly for him, they were still strangers, as things stood, a paucity of time interfering with the telepathic connections that had been developed between them, more from his end than her, but being tested at a nascent stage. The joy and bliss of personal priorities had castigated all his efforts in maximizing time, but alas, he was as bound as the mere mortal to his inevitable death, in controlling his destiny structured around multiple parameters like stature and resources, among others.

Feelings apart, it had been a solemn week, full of ups and downs, signifying the intelligent design of evolution that had programmed the human biochemical system, the source of all human happiness, to constantly return to its mean position in spite of the human trying in all his or her vain to extend the feelings of pleasantness that had been earned through sex, drugs, music or just plain old fashioned hard work and bask in the temporary glory of completing a said task. This fact worried him, because it meant no matter what he did, legal or illegal, he could never be objectively happy because the amounts of dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin were constantly in flux, like a sine wave radiating between feelings of pleasure and misery, depending on the genetic biochemistry inherited from the generations gone by.

Unless of course, he treated happiness as subjective, and kept convincing his mind from time to time, no matter how up or down he was actually feeling, that he was happy. Really. In the sense, then that it became a choice, a way of thinking to divert the mind’s thoughts from how he was feeling to more pressing matters like companionship or chasing the latest dopamine kick, like virtual reality or gaming systems, that could keep one engrossed for hours on end, depending on the individual’s appetite to cut himself or herself off reality.

After a point, he didn’t know what to do or think any more. There was so much going on inside his head, buzzing with all sorts of fantasies like running after strangers on the street with a chainsaw, laughing like a maniac as he cut them into pieces, or snorting cocaine from a woman’s vagina. He felt his mind would explode, such was the passion and intensity he felt at the end of a long day, filled with ups and downs, which depended on the whims, fancies and moods of his colleagues, seemingly justified in their opinions, but which made absolutely no sense to him whatsoever, preferring to cooperate rather than argue without an end result in mind, leading to more wasted time and energy.

Energy, the ultimate frontier, the reason for all existence, the deepest mystery of the source of the big bang, thirteen and a half billion years ago, shaped by the something, a why needed to be answered, the mystery of all mysteries. Why, were we. What do we want, to want. As the question sunk in his mind, he jolted upright.

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