Ambulatory

1

I finally got myself a hamster wheel. I’ve always envied the critters that get to use these. It seems genius that they managed to get their humans to figure out they like to move constantly but don’t have enough space.

I constantly need to move. I have multiple systems involved in this urge. My limbs start getting tickly and then buzzy and then twitchy if I keep them still for more than I should. My brain blasts me with strong messages of its discomfort. Like if I don’t move NOW I’ll have to hit my head against the wall hard.

Insects start wriggling around inside my organs. Gentle at first but if I don’t move they’ll clump together and make a cement weight in my belly and I’ll have to go to bed.

There will be some kind of mini atrophy going down. My muscles will ache, my hips will fuse, my body will send strong messages that say fuck off, you were built for movement, and you’re not moving.

At the end of a day without enough movement, I’m ugly. I’m solid and set on simmer and I hate this body and I’ll have to take my mind elsewhere because it’s flush with unused energy and needs to fly.

My desk job and my autistic self hate each other.

My brain saw it all unfolding and sent me a strong urge to make a standing desk.

Thank you brain.

I rock while I work. But it’s still not enough. I need a hamster wheel.

My body and my brain sent me a strong urge to solve this problem and pay respect to the human form and all it’s capable of. So I got a treadmill.

Like the lab rats, I move all day.

My autistic self is learning. It is ambulatory.

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