The Anxiety Ridden Path Of Sins

Something just didn’t feel right, or was it just his brain chemicals acting fuzzy?

He could smell the weird vibes in the air around him, the air that he was breathing, as if something that shouldn’t have been, was being. He didn’t like this feeling one bit, not one bit, because it made him feel insecure, like a cute looking lamb, innocent in the ways of the world being led to the slaughter house after being fed heartily with delicacies over the course of a few weeks or months. He wasn’t a lamb, though, he could think and frame his surroundings better than animals could. And as of now, he couldn’t understand what his brain was trying to tell him, as if it was trying to radiate across a signal for him to act upon, urgently and tellingly. But, as far as he was concerned, everything was just fine, or was something lying in wait across the corner, just within his immediate vicinity, out of sight and ready to pounce on him unawares?

He just couldn’t fathom what. Might as well smoke a couple of drags of marijuana while he was at it, maybe his sense of intuition would increase and the message would probably reveal itself to him in the moments that passed by after the high. He changed his mind. He had been sober for the past four days and wanted to keep it that way for the time being, in light of how many things he had to accomplish, things that demanded his best thinking cap, in order to ideate, write and speak. Not that he couldn’t think when he was high, in fact he loved thinking when he was high. But, the marijuana he usually found was of the indica variety that induced drowsiness after a set point of time, unlike the sativa strain that sadly, he had never tried, one because it wasn’t available easily in his country, and second, he didn’t know when he could fly to a country where the herb was legal to produce and consume recreationally.

He had been loitering around the first floor, as if he had nothing to do, a fact that was as misleading as the Pope who inhabited Vatican in the medieval ages exhorting millions of youth to join the crusades in the name of Jesus Christ and defend their His legacy in the face of the imminent Islamic invasion. Having arrived at his co-working space as fresh as a freshly cut lime, whose pleasant bitter aroma could be smelt from a few centimeters around its immediate periphery, he had headed up to the gym located on the terrace, basking in the cool wind of the early morning, the sun being hidden by the clouds stubbornly, managing to restrict the glow of the big star to a few golden rays that crept out towards humanity, morosely ,as if to say, it was left with no choice after having tried its best to find a way through the barricades erected by the clouds.

Like the Sun, he too dreamt that one day he would shine as brightly, not in the literal sense, like the ones who self-immolated themselves for a cause very emotional to their particular community or group, but in the metaphorical sense, like the metaphorical enlightenment of Buddha, who discovered that the mind was a vile creature, craving all sorts of things, good or bad, and never satisfied with either, leading the human to its imminent doom through a mixture of self-sabotage and interpersonal rivalry. It was fascinating.

He was still as clueless as a few minutes before, like a star bursting out of its trajectory, exploding itself into oblivion, crashing around with the stars present in its galaxy, out of control, in ecstasy, dancing to the tune of the vast cosmos, while it struggled to understand what was happening to it, or indeed didn’t realize its imminent self-destruction, as it was caught up in obeying the law of conservation of energy, that dictated its life and times, like an emotionless wreck, sought out to do the universe’s bidding, shedding some energy for the sake of the rest, as wrecked as him, but still alive and thriving, unknown in its quest about the knowledge of its own existence, thrown into a system rife with anarchy and chaos, out of which, order appeared, without anyone knowing how or why.

He calculated that it was exactly thirty nine minutes since he had been day dreaming. The anxious feeling was gone, almost as if a bug had infested his brain’s algorithm, and been removed after a thorough electrochemical process, in place to test the core algorithm from time to time, enabling its output, the rise of consciousness and subjective experiences to perform under completely optimum conditions once again.

It was fascinating. He closed his eyes, and by default, began thinking about her.

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