It takes a great effort for me to stay put.
During mealtime conversations, I cannot just sit still and do nothing. I’d grab a napkin and draw on it. If no pen is available, I’d tore it to shreds. Sometimes, I would chew on the straw. Or peel off the white film from the food wrapper. In the end, my side of the table would look like a bulldozed village of tissues and food wrappings.
Stability leads me to a state of paranoia. It is as if the state of stillness is a deception to lure me into believing that I am in full control of the world I am in. The lull, in my discovery, is simply a prologue to an inevitable tragedy that you can rarely see coming. Thus, one needs to keep moving, to stay alert for the slightest change in the surroundings. One should have the ability to spot telltale signs that people around no longer dress the same way and no longer talk about the things they used to be passionate about. At the slightest sign of alteration, one can flee. But sometimes, one can stay and move with the transformation.
(Note: random ramblings at 4 in the morning)