As I lay on my bed I realize my mind is globetrotting. A big fragment of myself has been endlessly running without stop since early childhood. It has to. No one asked her to. She feels compelled to do it. The world starts weighing on her each time she slows her pace. Resting is simply a very distant, unfamiliar concept.

I have known peace only momentarily, only when I am in a state of no-mind and even no-body. As I forget myself and immerse myself with all of my senses elsewhere other than me. As I blur the boundaries of skin and time-space reality.

I hear them talk about singularity, I hear them sound the alarm before we turn into a Harlan Ellison’s story. It’s frightening. A new species was born, yet we are the children. Immature, unwise, dangerous when unsupervised, primeval peoples. What will become of us? Am I the only fragmented one globetrotting or are you right by my side glistening with sweat?

Should we sway into the quiet of the (main)stream? Or should we revolt against the inevitable and unimaginable that is in the herenow?