on readjustment

everything is mechanical, too well choreographed, flat.  train from rabat to casablanca, from casablanca to the airport charged and emotional.  tension flooding the air and underlying sadness at leaving loved ones, the experience, the country.  a quick sputter of sobs pulsing through last goodbyes and then immediately as though someone had punched a button, everything was mechanical.  i feel like a person apart.  everything around me is arranged for my personal convenience.  security goes smoothly, flight leaves on time, a woman shakes me to eat - and i eat because i feel she expects me to, not out of want - she arrives the minute the last bite is chewed to whisk away the trash, skytram arrives on cue, doors swallowing me and transporting me to another terminal.  its eerie.  everything is programmed exactly.  the clouds outside of the plane window were a scene painted to convince me I was really flying. and then - stars jumped at me in lively constellations but after the initial second, they too were predictable and expected.  big spoon.  flying horse.  queen.  how wonderful if they would fly around, change positions, turn colors - if only to convince me the world was moving with me organically rather than mechanically.  i feel different and expect everyone around can see that - as if my skin has changed or i have a stamp on my forehead.  but no one even acknowledges me, all eyes look past, no greetings are exchanged.  and type a me longs for chaos.  at least i'd feel alive.  the movie set is killing me already.