December 4, 2020

Maya

(c) J. Singh, 2016

We worship at the altar of neurotransmitters. Emotions and feelings are the new highs, psychological patterns the new drug.Even as we indulge in it, we crave it more and more.Every day. Our dependence only deepens. Perfectly manufactured for our own body, by our own body, at precisely the right dosage and concentration. Administered in the most efficient way possible. We are addicted to this.We don't see beyond our own reality. We are comfortable in our own delusions.Just give us another hit and we'll be fine. We are deceived, hoodwinked, bamboozled, but we don't care.We are convulsing with orgasmic pleasure, and we don't even look beyond our own immediate needs. Just let us revel in this feeling. Don't let it pass. Give us another hit. We need to keep ourselves drowned in serotonin and dopamine. Keep them flowing and we will always keep coming back for more. We can't have enough. We can never have enough.

No, we don't want to face reality, whatever that is. We have everything we need right here. We are lost in a foggy haze, we barely function but it does not matter. As long as we get the chemicals from our inner organic pharmacy. At precisely the right dosage and concentration. Keep them coming. Don't ever stop them. We live for the next high, wherever and whenever we can find it. Friends and family are of no consequence. We will use them in whatever way helps us to run our patterns and initiate the manufacture of the drug in our bodies. We need it, we crave it, we can't live without it. Moral and ethics are of no consequence. Everything is expendable in our quest for the next high.

We will go to great lengths for this. We will delete, distort, and obscure our memories, our recollection of the past, and factual details. We will ignore obvious evidence staring us in the face. We will lie to ourselves and to others. We will get angry, indignant, and offended. This all will help us believe in our own fabricated story so that we can engage in our emotional melodrama. We need our drugs. Don't get in our way.

We are completely absorbed in ourselves. We don't see anyone else. We don't see the world. We don't see reality. We don't see the illusion that has wrapped us up in itself and is feeding us its version of what is. We are hopelessly lost. Blind. Forlorn. We don't realize our own pathetic condition. We have been deceived.

Don't talk to us about redemption. We are too busy feeling sorry for ourselves. We feed off this feeling. Don't tell us there is another way. Don't show us how happy you really are inside. Our drug gives us passion. We will forsake everything for our next high. We needit. We don't care for happiness, it cannot compare to the ecstasy we experience on a regular basis. Even if that is beginning to wear us down as we age. We ignore the deep emptiness and loneliness that is growing like a huge gaping wound inside us. We try to look the other way and fill the void with more of our drug; we end up spending almost all of our time in a drug-ridden stupor. We will not listen to you and your proclamations of happiness and bliss. Go tell it to someone else. We don't care, we just want our next hit.

Numb. We cannot break free from this. We are slaves to our own condition. We are yearning for release. Please save us from this hell. Is there no way out? Even now, nearing the end of our life, we still crave the next high, the next big hit. We have been asleep our whole life. We have been too cowardly to face the pain of our own existence, and instead we have numbed ourselves with our bodies' own chemical substances. We have missed out on being really present for the most important moments in our lives. We have been too self-absorbed. We have lost our chance to really experience and thrive in our human existence. We have been deceived. We fell for the illusion. We missed our chance. Now we are at the twilight of our life, and light is fading fast. Darkness is closing in from all sides, and Death is on the prowl. We have no way out. We cannot escape the iron vice-like grip that our own predilections have on us. We have finally come to realize, but lying on our deathbeds, it is too late for us. It is too late. We are doomed.

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