(7s) Recent Force Battles For Control Of My Soul #4 - Mind Mush vs. Natural Structures & Fresh Air

I can feel this one as I sit surrounded by computers with various internet speeds all fucking day long, with a window to my office that I keep the shade drawn because it messes up the $100,000 microscope. The monitors are like soldiers' guns pointed at me, and even if I log them all off of their individual connections, it is there. You waste your time by looking up important things, then the semi-important, and you tell yourself you're staying informed, staying sharp, or just enjoying your slow death time through the work day. But man, I can feel my brain tissue ache. I guess saying it's soft is not the right term because it's spongy already, but there's something about the overload of electronic rays that causes it to tingle in a different way, like a slow charging taser shot straight past the blood brain barrier.
The odd thing is my job is related to the neurosciences, so in the process of being accessible to my work, I am weakening my own mind. Perhaps that is the point and I'm an elaborate fucking experiment. There's not much difference between us and the albino rats they genetically engineer at Charles River Laboratories. You take 100 of them, and completely randomly and by luck, 20 are kept on normal water and food, and the other 80 are given cancer through chemical-laced drinking water and high fat rat chow that weakens their liver even more so than their strange genetic make-up does. Completely by chance. They are trapped in cages together in groups of two, and play wrestle in the bedding and shit because what the hell else are they gonna do? We are no different, randomly placed into our lives, no choice in where we're born, and because of where we're born, genetically placed to have a 4 in 5 chance of dying that slow death of no hope, no glory, no cash money beyond the little stacks we grab in frustrated stabs at a future that isn't ever gonna exist no matter how hard we daydream. The weak mind feeling is the hardest for me because that's really what I prided myself on was my sharp sword of mentality that chopped at the senseless cravings.
I should be out in the air, feeling the solar rays, tromping through the woods where the redbuds are on display right now. I should be wearing loose-fitting clothes that I can easily take off and disappear into the water buck ass naked like the day I was born and the day I will die. Instead I am cramped in stiff clothes in a dark office with machines whispering all at once at me and I can't understand any of them but I know they are talking, and talking about me even, in disparaging ways, but I'm not supposed to not listen. I need to be accessible at all times, by email, by cell phone, by brain chip, by fucking god.
Right outside the thick glass is sunshine. The interstate of 64 is just beyond the trees over there to the right of my window view. It goes everywhere eventually, but none of that is the escape. It's just bouncing around at a high rate of speed to end up right back here in the same spot and let my brain bounce around the sensations to process them for a while and ignore the slow death cubicide, and how uncomfortable it is to have to wear underwear to work.
What I should do is go camping with no gear right there in the median strip of the interstate, hiding out overnight, training myself to tune out the constant hummmmmmm of Those Things That Hum. But I don't have the time. I have to hurry up and waste my fucking life. My mind aches like a bright, fat tomato, going to rot on the vine, the bugs crawling in and out that no one sees nor does anybody care.