The Road Always Taken

By: Jonathan Seidel

Reflection at an impasse: active and passive conformity

Reflective aura emerges with traumatic encounters. A moment of looking inside is when the outside is too dim to stare. An obstacle standing ahead of the journeyman scares him inside his shell. Introspection becomes a pep-talk of sorts to inspire the self to move forward. It is at the moment of introspection he makes his decision whether to conform or confirm. 

An impasse reached by everyone at periodic points of life. How one proceeds from that depends on convictions. It is an inevitable encounter. Brushing up against a query of persistent annoyance. To accept or reject the confronting challenge. A moment to stage a stand against the current or be washed away by the wave’s strength. A fork in the road to choose one’s destiny. Each person is questioned concerning their next step. That moment is a reflection of one’s own confidence. Whether or not seriously challenges one’s belief is less about retaliation and more about peer pressure. Willing to fit in at the cost of one’s individuality. A collectivist comfort is worth conceding self action for a brighter acceptance. Wishing to not remain sidelined by his negatory effect. If he wishes not to play ball he will be alone. The loneliness is not worthwhile. The compromising influence in one’s own challenging self esteem. To assist or to resist. 

The choice is the individual’s but it does not feel as such. The prevailing power sucks out the autonomy from the confident self. Attempting to master his own flesh collapsing in an overwhelming avalanche. A wave of crumbling rocks trap his ego in submitting to the external aid to retrieve him from the rubble. Trapped underneath he is paralysed unable to save himself. Beginning to think his arrogance was his downfall. If he only followed orders this wouldn’t have occurred. His demise was by his own hand. His negligence led him to this awful state buried beneath. His calm quick-witted demeanour transitioned to a destabilising claustrophobic insanity. Fear escapes into his body uncertain of his future. Regretting choosing his own path he hopes for his friends to save him. Hoping they have not given up on him. He signed his death warrant but some empathy may ensure his survival. He shrieks in horror crying for salvation. He is rescued by his admission. His promise that he will maintain the course of everyone else, never veering off. 

His swift stumble is enough to change his mind. He owes a debt to those who saved him. His conformity is that price. Giving up part of himself in order to maintain order. His punishment is cohesion. Sounding attractive on the surface is uniform integrity dismissing otherness. He loses his own solitude for collective reform. An irony to his own failure. His first attempt at solitude faulted in a manner of seconds. To honour his misdeed he concedes. He recedes back to the group conscious, away from his subjectivity. Such thoughts are solely theoretical in his mind. Expressing a status quo marring any more singular adventures. The narrow-minded individualism falls short of prosperity. Bending the knee to the collective he is readmitted into the fold. A scary world outside easy to fall into a pit and be left to rot. Not wishing for an inescapable demise he rallies himself around those who can protect him. 

The lonely journey is not a blissful experience. Declaring the solo quest is a statement to not be bothered. While the group protests the lone deserter it realises its loss. Walking down the long corridor towards the exist is a momentary query to rethink this decision. Will he turn his back on his fellows. Doing so may reciprocate in them doing the same. This may be a permanent measure unable to take back. One encoded with a deserter title. He cannot foresee the future. He may be re-accepted at a later date but there may be strings attached. In order to qualify for readmission he may need to renounce his desertion and accept their rules. He is playing at a disadvantage. Right now he can choose to stay while maintaining his deviance in his head. Once he is outside the fold nothing short of purity will enable his return. Even if he is permitted to return others may see him differently potentially with scowls and scornful demeanours. 

A desperate move for solitude need be temporary. Conviction is final in this regard. Shunning the comforting collectivism is a stain on one’s reputation. Branded a deserter will bring animosity. Returning a changed man with new aspirations is dangerous. A soulful calling to isolate has repercussions. His decision is one of deep consequences. Starting down a different path will question trust and reliance. He prompts the otherness. He separates from the group. It is his separation spawning grief. Expectations have been thwarted in exchange for deception and desertion. He has let his fellows down. He has disgraced them with lies. They may bring themselves to associate with him but to a certain degree. He is forever changed in their eyes. His deceit cannot be undone. Speaking out of turn in a moment of tribulation is blasphemous. Unable to handle the uniformity he forms his own thinking. A more nuanced look but his deviation is against the law. He is alienated by his desperate escape. 

To avoid this skirmish he renounces these dangerous thoughts. He relents and repents for his sinful behaviour. He instinctively seeks camaraderie. He casts off the constant push over the edge. He cannot allow it to consume him. He seeks comfort in the arms of friends. He will step out of line lest he face the terrible unforeseeable consequences. In a moment of despair he shuns these thoughts for allied strength. He does not wish to be lonely. He pushes against the abandoning feeling. Refusing to rid his current belief system. His integrity at stake, he ignores the call for desertion. He maintains his place alongside his friends. A bold marker to overpower the overwhelming cognition. He sticks to his best option. With others he is comforted. He ceases to be alone. Transcending his guilty conscious for   conformity. Compelling himself in the best direction for his delirious emotions. He recognises the brief chaotic moment. He disallows it to overcome his path. 

Desertion is the enemy. Eternal disdain is too much for him to handle. It cannot be the truth. Alone in the world with an irregular view is too foreign. His experience is a moment of weakness. He must take charge discharging this devilish ideal. For his own acceptance he relishes in extinguishing the demonic alien. It is an evil trying to capture him in his pitiful state. The devil himself using this moment to tempt him off the righteous path. Outside the fold is wrong. No one else lives that way, it cannot be true. The writing on the wall is a mere illusion generated by the devil to bring him to the dark side. It is a trick, witchcraft to turn on his friends. He will not abandon his quest for solidarity. He entrusts his future to the group over his now intuition. He begs the group to save him. To raise him from the illusionary hellfire. His schizophrenic mania is a devilish tactic but he will prevail. 

There is a difference between the chronic patient impasse and the average Joe. The latter enters the fork periodically. A decision is not so difficult, he forgets it in time and so the fork is foreign to him. Persistent trauma scours mental fortitude to maintain necessary norms. The haemorrhage assault nags into a raging cynicism. Is one thing to reach an impasse once but a cyclical manifestation is tedious and tiresome. It is a never-ending nightmare. One that when the day ends it restarts at the same point. He is living a cinematic drama reliving the struggle. He cannot exceed the bordered loop. There is no moving forward, that is merely an illusion away from the pain. One is caught in a loop to maintain the status quo or go insane. There is no escape, he is stuck in an eternal circle. Only medication and self esteem can shed the prison he has found himself in. He can begin to rebuild as long as mind numbing externalities reduce the horror mediating in his soul. 

A grieving ex in time will overcome the trauma. It is easier to ignore the tell signs by reinserting the self back into the fold. The brief alienation barks ideas of further alienation. His transition back to society is intentionally cleansed of these impure thoughts. When he neither is in a relationship nor single mentally he is preoccupied with dreading on the past. He has yet to accept his reality. Once he is able to forcefully he moves on. He returns to the mentality he was before he was in the relationship. While the relationship may have changed him he chooses to return to the mass ideal. Inserting himself into societal progress. It is in this transitional moment where he can change his trajectory. Does he wish to return the same he was before or an entirely new person. He has grown but does he carry that with him. In order to partake in the societal vision he must give up part of his growth. He accepts societal terms and is rejuvenated with comforting conformity. 

The chronic surviver is an endurer. His life is hell. He is chained to the volcanic ash bruising his skin everyday. He cannot distance himself with foreign preoccupation. Such a temporary measure only receives the pain ten folds. He is at a lost. He is accosted perpetually by the mumbles in his ear to absolve societal nonsense. He has sufficient time to listen carefully to the words pronounced on his chest. His pain opens up his aural capacity for deep immersion. He hears a call and places his ear close to the wall. The whispers become louder. He no longer ignores them. If he is stuck he may as well listen. This permission pounces on him lecturing him on societal failure. He cannot tell if this is an illusion or lunacy. It becomes real to him. His isolation only frequents their chatter and bolsters their resilience. He relives his abyss daily and with his energy sapped he gives an ear to these words. The impasse is not a one time thing but a daily encounter. As if he relives the same day with no way out. 

Persistent voices with their blasphemous tongue to isolate are not prophetic nor inspiring. The absurd in no way rallies a magnitude of energy to begin a revolution. His pain sidelines him. His chronic condition finds sympathy with the disregarded voices. Becoming allies he begins to listen to them. Yet in his weakened state he is unable to execute anything drastic. These voices tend to his wounded heart. In his grief the voices provide comfort. Alone and away from others, they are the resilient messaging. Chaotic reality is synergised in his mind finding an ounce of solace. The cycle is not broken as the words continue. He cannot escape so he accepts the situation. The loop keeps him at arm’s length by others. He recognises his own limits and restricts others access. He is alone with the voices to stoically manifest and gradually develop his survival strategy. Pessimism and nihilistic tendencies emerge but it is his confidence in his own responsibility to thrive.  

Present Traumatic Reflective Disorder

By: Jonathan Seidel

Modernity provides such amazing successes and a technologically friendly society bolsters the uniform identity embraced by the public. The internet speaks and people comply. A global hypnosis amounted to brainwashed robots. The insane are the only capable of escape. The experienced hysteria see a more gloomy society one blemished with tainted colours and dead flowers. Trauma resets the brain from the glorious beauty of modernity to its dark abyss. For all its advances its imperfections haunt the debased. Seeing the devil pulling the strings of human society. Puppeteering the masses in harmonious symphony. A beautifully conducted mirage unable to pierce without an error to malfunction the robotic submission. Escaping the mind-numbing pod encasing humanity. A momentary lapse in the organic order. A mistake costing fluidity in the eternal motor of societal development. Instructions functioning marvellously to a common goal. A system almost perfect in its synchronisation. Yet its realism is its own imperfection, its own limitation. Producing unwell candidates that are marginalised, isolated for their insanity. Their ceaseless function to societal improvement is detrimental. The traumatised are somewhere in between. A disruption amidst a journeying glorification instead of a defect from birth. The sudden distortion in the clear path of societal unison disfigures the paradise of collectivism. 

An isolating feeling emerges. It is a passive insistence by the traumatised unable to accord with the present reality. Needing time alone to reassess. Time to calm down relax and collect the self. Society does not brush him aside sweeping him under the rug but attempts to reunite him with the bunch. Caught between regrouping or institutionalisation is a far cry from sanity. His midway house is the distance between two different board games. He either gathers himself reentering society cured or overhauled with emotion must be checked into a psyche ward. His mind ravaged with trouble cannot be balanced with either extreme. Subdued to either option extinguishes his autonomy. An individualism he has only recently realised. One of immense power but also of immense alienation. His trauma is his own and the external help places him in a box. Resilient effort to ensure his capacity to overcome or be overwhelmed. The duality misses the middle ground emerging from his personal terror. The collectivism cannot understand his private retreat. Trying every what way to provide the care selfishly is to fill a void in either camp. 

His experience is his own. His pain his own. Sympathetic gestures are vain to his uncontrollable discomfort. He wishes to be alone. To be with the only one who understands his pain, himself. Feeling alienated with little camaraderie in the state of his sickening ailment he trembles in despair. His burden is personal and the external aid is rife with malicious empathy. He is stuck on an island far away surrounded by infinite sea with no sense of connection. Physically in the spatial proximity but mentally in a far away hellfire volcano. His weakened mental state is subtle to the onlooker but increasingly disheartening to the pained. He clenches his fists gritting his teeth in agony in his privacy. In public, puts on a happy face for momentarily hope and absent questioning. A life he yearns for while eluding eager reporters. Trauma is delicate and personal. A paparazzi leading needless questions are dubious and infuriating. His remarks will mean nothing to them in their insolence. A scale of pain is subjectively monitored. His experience cannot be internalised. It is a waste and only a matter of compounding stress on the sufferer. His aching mind seeks peace alone in the bliss of silence. 

Forced back from the linear monistic direction opens a purview previously invisible. Trauma jerks the mind toward other possibilities. The sole solution cannot be this dire loss. It cannot be this treacherous abyss. This is no eden. There is no wisdom in this plan. It is just manipulated jargon. His time alone in the confines of his bedroom pondering the why’s of his situation only lead to aggressive haste. They inspire regrettable apprehension. Frustrated with his circumstances howling at the moon praying on his knees begging tearing for salvation that never arrives. He is alone in the world with little to salvage his depressive mentality. A hard look at the typical person wreaks cynicism in his heart. In his lonesome pondering he investigates his life. Questioning decisions and values. He sceptically scans his virtues dosing them with incredible scrutiny. Nothing is beyond his criticism, everything is on the table. The previous red lined areas are broken. That red tape is cut and he passes through opening those books and reading the stereotyped heresy. Jericho has fallen. 

His mentors failed him. Their education did not mention this trial. This deceit is imaginably irregular breaking from the pattern taught to him. Flaming in his anger toward the lying institutions who failed him and continue to provide insensitive rationales to lift his spirits. Left alone for his own deciphering he puts a pin in it. He looks for a new avenue. He either takes it to heart whereby rejecting everything acting in the opposite extreme or find a balance refuting much of the normative for a revolutionary ideal more sensible. He is brutally honest brazen in his evaluation. He does not attempt to pander nor conform for others’ acceptance. He has been isolated and will remain this way. His trauma changed him. A new man with a new outlook. He cannot turn back time to the naivety and innocence of his youth. He has reached an impasse. One that is veiled to the programmed. He charts his own path unable to partake in either collectivist group. Struggling from loneliness he attempts to make waves in society but feels mentally desolate. A new ideology misaligned with the calculated computer program. He is alone in the world displaced by the malfunction.

Disillusioned with social fabric he isolates himself for his own serenity. Yet, leaving his cave for some sunlight. Disembarking from his enclosed lair for a moment to satisfy his loneliness. He is not impenetrable. Suffering alone as well as amongst company. The trauma compels him to seek the solace of solitude. A diseased fellow deplored from the effortful encounters. Time is energy something he lacks sufficiently and wishes not to drown in its futileness. He devotes much time with others lost in his mind surviving by a beet. He enjoys the immediate comfort. Even in his room there is only so much he can take. Being alone forever is distressing. Adding stressful elements overwhelming his serene solitude. Unable to maintain the eternal isolation he must flee briefly. He needs some sunlight to expel the devilish loneliness. His mind can only handle so much at a time. He needs some existential affirmation for his own sanity. He loses himself for a quick moment with others but his mind can only concentrate so swiftly temporarily before reverting back to the traumatic override. He leaves in haste back to his safety net to recharge. A space devoid of responsibility other than his sanity.     

Alone and lonesome becomes a burden too much to bare. His mind falls into disarray. Confused and perplexed by the agonising reality persisting day after day. A consistency marked by the internal screaming as his mind deflates into the void of despair. Desperation becomes apparent and he sees no way out. How to overcome this overwhelming disaster. How to avoid self annihilation. How to keep cool under these tense conditions. There is no formula no medication no prayer no spell to repel this disease. Its passing is unknown. Its cure unknown. Stuck in a loop of constant aching reaches a boiling point. A query of doubt enters the unconscious. Weighing the vitality of continuance. Purpose is null in relation to the ongoing calamity plaguing him. He is alone no one knows and no one will care. It is his life and for him to choose. He does not owe anyone anything. Stripped of responsibilities in his immanent desertion. Decrying his reality alone inquires meaning in the hellish abyss. Stubborn confidence and endless search maintain his rampant unstable nature. In the shadow of doubt he meditates on his worth and decides the merit ever yearning for affirmation.     

Painting a picture of his homey habits protect from the terrorising demon. His mind must be occupied endlessly. Purpose in his survival is tactically strategised. The pain must be reduced in any possible capacity. Seeking methods oscillated frequently to keep his mind preoccupied routinely. An imperfect construction but one in his painful paradise. His findings are out of body mementos. He does not concern himself with the average waste of life source. Alone, he focuses internally expanding his mind in various aspects. Tricking his greatest threat to his ally. His mind transforms into an angel developing all the while attempting to annihilate him. He voids the confrontation by supplying his mind with a Scooby snack. Positively reinforced nutrients to advance all the while trembling under his mind’s descent into madness. Fearful of what the future holds but it is in his hands. His mind is his own. He will either crumble under its endless torment or carry the crippling weight to the finish line. It is his battle and one he alone will persist or perish. 

Lonely but empowered by his own skill. Already isolated by the societal dispensation he carves his own path. Trauma is scary, laced with cynical derangement. His disposition to external approval is muddled by his solitary goal of survival. Perpetuated trauma eclipses the meagre extreme unbalanced aggressive frustration. The arduous quest through the persistent suffering bemoans all other favourable optimism. His isolation is self demanded and dire. Trauma recants its desired end for tranquility. He is changed and upon his recovery cannot return. He is forever nuanced. The malfunction has occurred. It cannot be changed. His isolation was his choice yet his mind convinced him of its superiority and serenity. Its consequences are lonely and prideful but provide an optimism for future generations. His story is solidified in the halls of heroic victory. His cathartic surreal experience may not be in the press but his descendants will internalise these skills. Hopefully his narrative eclipses the program. His orality beats the internet’s textuality.