The delusional reflective observer: the jealous and deceitful absurd hero.
Isolated from centerstage, the sufferer watches as the world burns in front of him. Unable to change the trajectory of the societal progress. A viewer yelling at the movie screen for the hero to save the day. His shouts lay on deaf ears. The hero cannot hear him. He tells his friends but they are caught up in the moment. Hypnotised by the elements that cradle their passion. Smirking he inquires again of the lunacy they are believing in but to no avail. Shrugging their shoulders in assertion of a societal acceptance. Perplexed by the unanimous conformity he sits back and rejects the echo chamber of singularity. He doesn’t run away, he just sits there in disbelief and mocks the primitive monism alienated and irritated.
His isolation emboldens his perspective on the problematic asset. From afar he is able to see the full wide range of views. He has much time to focus beyond the day to day. He engages in everyday life but the constant struggle questions the normative movement. Spending time alone in his own world perplexes the routine. He is unable to follow through with the workload of society. He becomes engulfed in the fantasies of a better tomorrow. Watching others fall slowly into delusion. Coerced by their own impassioned desires. He shrugs and continues forward growing sceptical of the fervent consistency. Observing uniform behaviour bothers his conscious. Copycatting merely feels ambivalent and dubious. Scepticism enrages into cynicism. Distorting the realistic frame with nuanced perspective. The glorious endgame is an illusion perpetuated by the idealism inherent in fictional aspirations. Walking alongside friends deliberating over the day to day is rarely cross-examined. Solely discussed in its socratic singularity internally rebuffing the odd commentary. Unable to convince the blatant patterns that intersect in his mind. He sees the numbers above everyone’s head but they just call him crazy.
Withdrawing to his room is an inevitable aspect of social isolation. He is threatening. His knowledge is superior and finds less compliance from his surroundings. He is perceived as a conspiracist. He is rumbling gibberish to the public. Finding little camaraderie conferencing his views. He urges those who disagree to take a step back and think but they are incapable. They call him a witch debasing his witchcraft. Accusing him of falsely poisoning other’s minds with his nonsense. His newly enlightened perspective is fishy and warrants polemical reactionaries. He retreats to his room in isolated focus. Pondering why they cannot see it? Are they so naive? He concocts experiments to deduce the rationale behind the error and the uproar. He concludes that they are too close to it. So stooped in this ideological frenzy they cannot but accept the truth. They are in too deep. Subconsciously they make recognise the error of their ways but consciously will never concede. Top prideful, they dig their own graves. He alienates to remain unaffected by the vitriol disenchantment. Not wishing to be infected by the grand lunacy overtaking the public. Safety from the hoodlums roaming freely in the pitch black darkness.
He escapes the zombie ridden outside. Bolted shut he craves to not be bitten and fall back out of grace. Incapable of reasoning the obvious stench. Alone, he carefully examines and constructs a potential solution. Yet the cure is not easy to formulate. Zombies are transformed and entrenched in the bit. The medicinal salvation is a reckless but informative necessity. A medical solution that must be achieved by a respectable candidate. Though even a little by someone small can make a ripple in the waves. It may not reach the extravagant public but it can start with a few individuals. Conversation between individuals can lead to those individuals spreading out to speak to others. It is one thing to provide a cure. The real problem is convincing the public to take it. Zombies are witless soggy one track minded monsters. Injecting the cure is not enough. The only way to return to mortal form is to accept it. Their minds are mush so it is incredibly difficult for them undo their transformation into the undead. Yet to be affected by the drug must be considered working to fully execute its purpose. Forcing them back into mortal form will cause a chain reaction that only embitters their zombie form. The saviour must either leave the commune to start afresh elsewhere or slowly manipulate zombies back to the light.
While his phobic relation to zombies is apparent it is also apparent that his perspective is justly due to not being a zombie. He may ache at the transformative monism but the monolithic goal is the zombie goal not the human goal. The latter does not need that nourishment to survive. Even in a civilised zombie society he is an outlier who fails to understand society’s goal. He may reject society’s aspirations but such can be said of his laidback and relaxed attitude. He is isolated and thus free from the retconning continuum. He sees the traffic lines as an observer without partaking in its incredulous manner. As an outsider he can critique because he is not a part of the trade. While the labour may be backbreaking the reward is joyful. He cannot attain given his rebuffed isolation. Remaining in the privacy of his room enables him to critique without even lifting a finger to exact his review of the event. A critic born of privileged courtship. Demurring the societal goal with his own take as he sits on his couch scarfing down buttered popcorn with a Diet Coke by his side. He observes but fails to appreciate the engagement. The fun from partaking in the communal element of societal progress. He sits in his room sad and lonely writing critical pieces to make himself feel better.
He is a jealous man. He cannot have what others have. He is the quintessential slave moralist. He creates a profound model in his fictional perception to mark a new world order. He recognises he can never become the master. He doesn’t have the props or the ability. He is tragically a lonesome sufferer. He gives up the capacity to desire the societal rewards. The work hard great reward is a long shot for him. He doesn’t acknowledge the possibility. He is denied the access of such rewards. He cannot properly contend with the rest of society. If he cannot win he must change the rules of the game. The slave moralist recognises his limitations. Instead of trying hard nonetheless, he attempts to subvert the system. Offering a new compelling model that plays into his share. Why dare play a losing game when an alternative will be in one’s favour. He sees society grinding to the bow of the ship but what if he ordered the crew-mates to the stern. Those who successfully made it to the bow must now turn full circle and run the other way. Anyone who was near halfway has a better chance of winning. He has won because he is already at the stern as he champions those in progress to the bow to turn on a dime to his side. He incites deception that elevates his status while empowering those who were closest to the stern.
With his slave morality intact he cripples the master. All those who were headed to the bow have descended to his side. Offering them peace beyond the former goal. His deception has won the day. He knows others are quite overjoyed with his inspiration. His methodology overtly cradles the lower rank on the hierarchy. The stragglers made their way to his side. He inverted the hierarchy to fulfil his own hole in his heart. The irony of the sufferer’s move is that this was a necessity. Even if he could attain the master’s model he would be unhappy. The glorious societal reward was meaningless. It provided no closure nor any solution to his depravity. He seeks a remedy that differs from the classical option. He wishes for an answer for himself. That answer does not come easily in the media frenzy pouring hot lead down the throat. Hypnotising society into a monolithic tone. He stays quiet working on himself but his survival is only the first step. He ability to thrive depends on societal action. He may be an individual but the community is relevant to his success. His ability to overcome must begin with civilised shift. His enlightened identity places himself as a preacher to save others. He has seen the light, now it is his turn to preach these faults to the public. Teach them the wrongs of master morality only placing him higher on a pedestal. If he is martyred wow is his name engraved in the history books.
His absurdity emerges from his inability to see as they see. His vision is deluded with overcompensated analysis. The problems are real but they do not measure to the anarchic consequences he seeks. He criticises but lacks the motor to facilitate change. He shouts and argues but he fails to consider the position of the average individual. His habits are myopic. Upset with his own situation he projects the worst on the world. Darkness hovers over all of societal implementation. Victimising the affected in social aggression. His revolutionary canon is a hope for his own salvation. He is the tragic hero. A tragic hero with a tainted lens. He does see the issues. An obvious cause of taking a large look at the picture. Unable to follow through with the ideological jargon he observes the captivating slogans hurling individuals inside its field. Selfless to expose these ubiquitous dogmas he asserts alternatives to deploy a new frame for the future. The writing is on the wall. Selfishly believing that he has seen through the deception of societal imperialism. He is the purist angel seeking to save humanity from its harmful blunder. Unveiling the mechanic inequities that halt proper progression. Dismantling the narrational theology. All so he can play hero and have purpose in his life.
Without proper involvement he is a slug muttering blemishes in his cohort. Angry at the world he takes it out on societal problems. His polemics are exaggerated to the point of conspiracist propaganda. Overthinking the ignorance of the public. Endearing to a sociological class to argue the theoretical possibilities but fails to measure up to practical actualisation. Overloaded with frustration and countless hours of time he directs his fury to a new evil. He cannot solve his own problem so maybe the world’s is a good start. A pretty galvanising threat to overcome. An obstacle he brushes aside as a simple solution. Use common sense be kind and take accountability. Simple things he learned from the self help aisle he’s been fondling in the library. The timid inspiration leaps in its energetic sensation with minute concrete visualisation. A prophetic impulse with jargonist messaging. Zero framing or world building to actualise his message. A guru who employs big words in poetic lullabies to garner interest. Little is aided if hearts are lifted with benign hope. Getting people excited and then failing them with an unrealistic fictional plan. Other stragglers hear his call but most ignore his idiosyncratic tumblings. A nice musing ineffective on the world stage. Rashly and brazen, his words laced with ire erupting out of a volcano. He sounds like an angry old man ordering his younglings around. A man without understanding of the way of the world, just believing the world is burning.
Indiscriminately, he doesn’t see the trees or the beautiful cosmos. He sees hellfire and demons. His private abode is serene while the outside is a diseased-filled atmosphere. He wanders to the incomprehensible tune of others. Inquiring of their ignorance he feels superior but then ashamed he cannot connect. He is alone and mortified of his own enlightened ideals. He prefers a world where he feels alive and at home. One that makes him feel safe. A world he creates and brings others in. He doesn’t want to be alone so he convinces others of his vision. Some agree but many dispense with his angry tone. He is flustered and needs help. He pushes them away. A sufferer just mad at the world. A crazy man with an obvious bias. Unable to truly reckon with the rest of society he constructs fiction.
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