He hated it when he felt down. For no reason. None whatsoever.
As far as he was concerned, he had it all going on for him. Personally and professionally. Yes, it wasn’t as if he were completely free to do what he wanted to when he wanted to, but he could think that he could, and just..continue with what he wanted to when he wanted to, even when it was apparent that there seemed to be a gap between his choicest desires and his current reality.
Change was always welcome, not that it was something that could be dallied upon, since change was an ever present force that churned and moved things across the cosmos, on an unprecedented scale that couldn’t even be imagined, even after trying to. It was best that the likes of him focussed on aspects like finance, a field that offered order from chaos, even though it was a field whose roots, like religion and god, lay in an imagined reality, a belief that things would become better if more people chose to believe in it, irrespective of its limitations.
He lifted his hands and stretched his shoulders, feeling the joints inside click slightly. He hadn’t eaten in a while. He wasn’t hungry though, just a little..afloat, as if there was no direction or purpose to life, a fact he attributed to all the information that was available to consume, which borne out a series of feelings that ranged from helplessness on one extreme to a motivated spirit on the other.
It wasn’t as if, he was demotivated, in fact far from it. He felt..nothing. Which didn’t sit very well with him because he liked to feel as if he were capable of moving and shaking things up, not in the literal sense, but from an economic sense. With this in mind, he decided to write down the exact thoughts that he would think about everyday. In addition to that, as far as possible, he would monitor every thought that flew past his mind, by choice or otherwise.
Why?
He wanted to understand himself. Sometimes, out of nowhere, he would get urges, a sort of blind panic, where he would feel as though he were standing on a surface that were slowly, but steadily becoming bottomless, hurling him face down towards the unknown, with a fear set in that he was blindly settling for something that was below what he deserved, in terms of his capabilities. Sometimes, he felt extremely insecure, and in those moments, he would feel tiny stabs pierce away somewhere near his chest, probably close to his heart, without understanding why so, as if he lacked a source, an outlet to pour his heart out to, to have a conversation about his deepest fears and desires, things that he felt, but wasn’t aware of.
He wondered if he needed help.
He brushed away the thought as if swatting away an irksome fly. He was fine, it was just..nothing. There were times when he felt there was more to him, as if he were bottling up his emotions deliberately, feeling the urge to scream out, vent out all the angst that had been building up steadily over the years, a cacophony of mocking laughs, silent tears and insensitive words buzzing in his years like an annoying bee that wouldn’t let itself rest. He couldn’t think ill of people, even if they were people who deserved it. He pitied them, and hoped that whatever the circumstances they had faced to become so, they would one day self-reflect and understand who they truly were, and how they turned out to be that way.
A revolution was coming. It would take a few years, but it would. Change was the only inevitable and evolution the mother and father of all laws. Humans were evolving and so would he. He just needed to figure out what he truly wanted, and understand his very sense of being.
Who was he?
Marijuana Maharaj 