I hate feeling this way. I don't even have the slightest idea what this is --- catatonia? stupor? fear? anxiety? PMS? Not that having a name for this strange feeling abates the oddity but I'm used to having specific terms for certain conditions. It's the Internet age, we've come up with posh labels for certain conditions like OCD, ADHD, ADD and what have you. It's almost a sin not to have a name for my current state of emotion or level of (in)sanity.
My erratic mind has splintered into little devils parading before my very eyes several placards of imagery most of which are ways of how to just pack up and run away. My body merely feigns indifference to my mind's shrill demands especially at the thought of exerting more energy to the whole rigmarole of packing. Besides, where would I go? My mind adamantly tells me that it doesn't care where as long as it's some place different and within geographical limits (ha! economic limits, more like). But I have been running away from situations, from people and from experiences for the nth time. If not for the excruciating plane ride and the hassle of getting a visa, I would have been writing this in a picturesque garden in Salzburg or in a fancy cafe outside the Louvre. This is one of those reasons why I always think that I am not the maternal sort. If things turn into a mechanical chore, I'd always rush to the nearest exit door. If I have my own family and my restlessness sets in, will my family eventually come home to find an empty dinner table and a motherless home?
It's like my mind has its own reservoir of stimulant, it can't keep still. But like a curse, my mind is stuck to a body with the word sloth written all over it. Could it be then that the one thing my mind is running away from is my own self?
My erratic mind is imprisoned within the lumpy walls of a sloth's body. This is probably the reason why my mind has resorted to the artifice of wandering out of its lumpy nook. There have been quite a number of instances wherein I am in deep conversation with friends and I would suddenly stop in mid sentence because I have completely forgotten what I was talking about. Perhaps at that moment, it has wandered off before me to places I've only visited within the pages of travelogues.
Pardon my raw ending to this article as my mind have probably wandered off again to a distant place leaving me bereft of words to appropriately end this ranting.
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