Wednesday, March 30, 2022

Is a Ghost In The Personality?

 

we say it’s a ghost—this is familiar language—but it doesn’t say anything tangible. if one said—it sleeps in the personality, embedded through trauma, we might perk up. as in resting, it must awaken, this haunting, we designate as an apparition. while the disorder does sleep, it’s mainly awakened, as hereditary, and we call this a phantom. so the fortunate or unfortunate one—has a ghost, so to speak, in the personality, and a phantom in the genetics. by phantom, one speaks to another reality, feuding with reality, ensconced in perceptual conflict. nothing is inauthentic, nothing is authentic, here is where two might beg to differ. each one of us are different. people travel far and wide for many an introduction. or something obscure may take its course. we fail to assert—many study what most are becoming, cautious concerning its whereabouts. by some strange occurrence (trauma), something systematic, some alteration began germinating in the personality. it became an entity—with thoughts, feelings, motives; if unaddressed, it becomes a deviation from the norm, powerful in itself, and thus, a threat to ruling overseers. in and of itself, it poses a concern, in what officials have witnessed, it is of concern, all the way around, it’s a complete project: one needs to determine if it’s good or bad (the split)— both are monitored closely—neither are believed entirely. here, we concentrate on the personality, as split, by the one where the trauma originated. it’s not always the onslaught activity, but the repetition, while often, it’s the onslaught activity—nevertheless, an alteration of the self, cracks, and begins to create itself in preparation to deal with the continued site of trauma activity. many will tap in. many will exacerbate the trauma. in everything one gives, it will come back to antagonize. this last part is perplexing. we wonder if the haunting, by officials, is necessary.     

I’d Save The Reader Years

    The beat becomes sickness. A long crucible—a drilling ecstasy. I was losing focus, feeling forbidden, if to self, if to mirrors. So curs...