It is years in the making.
It begins early on when one learns to tell time.
The big hand is on the . . .
The little hand is on the . . .
When really both hands are on you.
And they will not let you go until you are dead.
Then there are the clanging of school bells, the buzz of alarm clocks, the beeps of a million notifications, all designed to move you faster and faster on the whirring sidewalk of life.
You learn to eat on the run.
You have a taste for fast food.
You multitask in multiplicity.
Your days are one seamless rush hour.
You are always doing something, going somewhere.
You stop only to sleep but you never rest.
You are exhausted.
You awake and begin the spin all over again.
You have been trained well.
You have become an excellent franticist.