On the Folly of the Person/Identity-first Rhetoric

This conversation may very well change from language to language, but - particularly in English - the Person/Identity-first rhetoric is largely pedantic and causes turmoil where none is needed. Both 'sides' often claim their view to be superior, and many even get offended if you use the other way, whatever 'side' one may be on. This is primarily an issue in the autistic community, but it can and does extend broadly to other uses where a qualifier might be used to identify a person, such as bipolar, disabled, and possibly sexual orientations, ethnicities, or anything else someone can find a way to get offended based on how one chooses to word what is basically the same sentence.

This is how it works: 'person-first' language would be "a person with autism, they have autism," while 'identity-first' language would be "an autistic person, he is autistic." The idea is that person-first rhetoric is supposed to avoid defining a person with a label, while identity-first rhetoric is to avoid dismissing a pivotal aspect of an individual's identity. This is what they're supposed to do, in the eyes of those who make such distinctions.

I'm perfectly fine with people having their own preference, particularly when referring to themselves, but when you push either on someone as being the 'correct' or 'superior' way, you're causing unnecessary turmoil and potential conflict that never needed to be there, in the first place. It's largely a distinction without a difference: pedantic. The primary difference is between the usage of the verbs (and their different forms) 'to be' and 'have.' One can be autistic, or one can have autism. The primary difference is that one is a noun and the other an adjective. It's a bit misleading to say someone is autism, and it simply makes no sense to say someone has autistic. Therefore, grammatically, it is the semantics which determines which verb you use.

People who identify with the diagnosis of 'Asperger's' can find themselves in a bit of a pickle, regarding this distinction. On the one hand, it's grammatically proper to say someone has Asperger's, but it doesn't make any sense to say someone is Asperger's. There is a term, 'Aspie,' which can be used in lieu of a better term for this, leading to sentences like "she is an Aspie," but it's inaccurate to say someone is aspergery, which isn't even an official word, but primarily a slur used to describe people perceived as having Asperger's-like stereotypes (socially awkward, nerdy, even as an alternative form of 'dumb' or 'retarded.') But 'Aspie' can, in some contexts, also be used adjectivally, such as, "I feel an aspie meltdown, coming on..." People, however, are seldom describes as being aspie. It's not out of the question, but it's rare.

In conclusion, the distinction is primarily of personal preference, while pushing any as truly 'superior' is merely pedantic. I was once verbally attacked by someone for calling myself an 'Aspie,' because they felt it was apparently offensive. There are people, both within and without the autism community (though they seem few and far between, in all) who consider 'Aspie' a slur, despite having both it's origins and propagation of use centred in the heart of the autism community. That person thought they were defending the honor of those diagnosed with Asperger's by and large, while simultaneously attacking any who self-identified as 'Aspie,' which is a bit like saying, "How dare you call someone gay! They're obviously a homosexual." While 'a homosexual' certainly isn't the most endearing phrasing, neither is really incorrect.

Learn what others prefer to be called, and try to call them that. Identify what you prefer and call yourself, and call yourself that.

Unconditional Love

     I've been fond of the CTV television show, Flashpoint, for a few years, now, but I never really got into it, from the first episode onward in marathons, as any decent show should be watched. Well, Netflix has been egging me on to watch it, so I started. My favorite aspect of the show is the compassionate, empathetic, psychological side. From the very first episode, they stress understanding, replace 'suspect' or 'perp' (and like terms) with 'subject,' always try to humanise and empathise with the subject, and try to end things peacefully to the fullest of their capabilities. Lethal tactics are always the last resort.
     This show gives a whole other perspective to the world of crime and policing. I think it in its own league apart from the vast majority of other crime dramas. Many of the episodes have simply brought me to tears because of the incredibly uncommon empathy displayed by the characters, and thus the creators, writers, and actors, as well. Each character struggles with their own biases, their own clashing and contradicting views, and their prejudices. In order to be a cohesive unit that goes beyond simply SWAT, they continually have to overcome these distortions and oversimplifications of their realities.
     Flashpoint also shows the more biased, more prejudiced, more distorted views that people have, which regularly define, color, and filter our realities. They show the full range and potential of human emotion, both good and bad, as well as all the grey areas. They show how good people can do bad things, how all people can be driven and pushed to extremes. Each episode allows you to step not only into one person's shoes, but several people's, as you see intimate and raw moments, both in the most relaxed and tense situations. Love, hate, confusion, contempt, anguish, euphoria; it isn't just both sides of the pendulum swing that is displayed, but the full range and motion of that broad arc.
     So... that is when I was surprised by the episode, “Unconditional Love,” and not pleasantly. It started out without surprise: high-strung chronic criminal, car chases, volatile circumstances, et cetera, et cetera... But, then, a new character – Paul – was introduced. He was immediately depicted as the weaker personality, nervous, restless, scared. He was first depicted more as a victim caught up in a crazy situation. Later, however, it is found out that the chronic criminal gun procurer was obtaining a gun for the Paul. They found out that Paul was obsessing over and researching serial killers. They found out he was obsessing over multiple girls who looked very similar to his sister. They started to put the pieces together and steered in the direction of suspected psychopathy.
     That is when I got unpleasantly surprised and even a little disgusted. Of course, I saw more than the characters. Being the viewer of a greater narrative, knowing more than the characters, I saw things they couldn't possibly have seen. I saw Paul's demeanor, his expressions (most would say 'lack of expression'), body language, lack of eye contact... I immediately sprang to, “He has autism!” Within the first few seconds he appeared on screen, I got that autism feeling. I thought, “Great! An episode which can show a more realistic perspective of autism and its relation to law enforcement!” For any who don't already know, there are countless cases of autistics getting bullied, brutalised, and berated by classmates, teachers, kids, teachers, parents, strangers, and – all too often – police. The vast majority of these incidences are simply a case of ignorance gone very wrong.
     Too often, I see people call autistics 'psychopaths,' which is a radically different condition, but which – to the untrained eye – can present similarly on the surface. I've known several clinical psychopaths, and some of them are really great people. There are tremendous differences between violent and non-violent psychopaths, and its the non-violent I prefer to associate with, of course. But that could be truly said about anyone, any group, right? “I prefer the non-violent men to the violent ones; I prefer the non-violent addicts to the violent ones; I prefer the non-violent religious folk to the violent ones.” It's really a given. But, in a criminal sense, 'psychopath' doesn't include non-violent, or non-criminal psychopaths. In the terms of the law, and of law enforcement, 'psychopath' only refers to the violent, criminal types.
     So, yes, I was upset to find out that this wonderful show that I'd grown to love would depict a kid as autistic, yet having their main characters calling him a psychopath! In the context of the crime drama, that obviously pointed toward violent psychopaths. They didn't get all the information right away, and what little they did get initially suggested that he might be a psychopath. Parker, the unit leader, negotiator, and the head of the psychological aspect of the unit, kept saying, 'until we find out more.' He didn't want to jump to the conclusion that Paul was a psychopath before all the facts were in, even when the rest of the team had just about settled on him being one. Most of the characters had taken their biases and jumped to conclusions, but Parker – the real compass and centre of compassion for the team – held out, digging and digging, trying to find out more about the kid.
     Eventually, Parker suggested that Paul might have some kind of autism. Jules, a sniper in the tactics part of the unit, pointed out that autistics aren't violent by nature. She pointed out that autistics don't lack empathy, compassion, and emotion. Parker was cautious, saying it was only another suggestion until they get more facts. Paul helped release a baby taken hostage by the gun dealer. He non-fatally pistol-whipped the gun dealer and escaped. He hadn't been making particularly violent decisions. He did show genuine concern for others. Giving a history on Paul, the mother says how Paul didn't take pleasure in others' pain so much as be the sufferer of pain inflicted upon him. He was often the victim, he knew he had trouble connecting with people, he knew he couldn't read people, and tried to study facial expressions. But the fact that he didn't seem to show any emotions with the passing of his father made the mother fear for the worst, yet still clinging to the belief that her son wouldn't hurt anyone. It was the unit's assumption that her son was a psychopath that planted any idea or fear that her son might be one.
     But the facts, in the end, pointed to the truth. It became clearer and clearer that he was on the spectrum. Paul had researched his own experiences and symptoms and mistakenly concluded – like quite a few other autistics I've come across – that he was actually a psychopath. He researched psychopathic serial killers, because that was what he believed he was doomed to become. Misinformation, misunderstandings, and miscommunication all turned into this perfect storm of identity crisis. He knew he was different, but didn't know exactly why or how.
     In the end, Paul never killed anyone, only injured the gun dealer in an attempt to escape, and even ended up saying to Parker, “I don't want to hurt her [one of the lookalikes of his sister.]” Parker replied with a smile, “No, I know that. I knew that the minute we started talking.” Paul then non-threateningly handed the gun forward asking, “Do you want me to give the gun to you?” Paul, a kid with verbal autism, was good at heart, just like the mother knew, and didn't want to hurt anyone. But in a culmination of confusion, rage, and anxiety, he'd been driven to believe he was a psychopath, and thought he had to follow through like one. He didn't; he couldn't, because he was never a psychopath.

Jules (Amy Jo Johnson): Undiagnosed low-spectrum autism, a little obsessive compulsive...
Parker (Enrico Colantoni): Maybe a borderline personality disorder... And a mother who only sees the son she loves. He's brilliant, but different.
Jules: Do you ever get the feeling that we only scratch the surface?
Parker: Hmph. All the time.
Jules: You know, you were right today, though, about digging deeper.
Parker: We do what we can with the time we have, right?
Jules: Yep.

     And the show resumes being a dear favorite of mine, also continuing the long line of tear-inducing, heart-warming episodes.

My Journey into Absurdism

I've increasingly headed into a deeper absurdist way of thought. For any who might not know, absurdism is the philosophy that there is no inherent meaning in the universe, but that humans inherently seek meaning, and there is not necessarily need for conflict for these two things to exist. I've advanced to the way of thinking that absolutely no one has true free will, that all actions, reactions, consequences, all events and incidences, absolutely all in time and space at any given time in any given space was fated, inevitable, and unavoidable. It's not so much a matter of 'no matter what we do,' as it is 'there's only one thing we ever could've done.' Strangely, when I was younger and, honestly, more religious, I thought more in this way. I believed in fate, in predestination, in heaven and hell. I believed in the word of the bible, and this is what I was taught.

By my teens, I had a crisis of faith. Further and further contemplation placed my conscience against and my religion. The way I'd seen God depicted, He would, in my mind, be a violent sociopath unworthy of praise. Heaven and Hell were unnecessarily cruel and despicable acts of God, and that any God would allow, let alone intend, such cruelty was impossible to follow. The devil further gained my sympathy in the bible's narrative. A rebel anarchist who would not follow anyone's absolute rule, even a deity's. A tester of man who was more a gate keeper to Heaven than any other figure in the book. It felt more and more a simple narrative of humanity than a religious doctrine. The writings made more and more sense as I removed all concepts of morality. This triggered a further evolution in my way of thinking.

I arrived to the conclusion, only the third year into my twenties, that fate was real. I may have questioned everything - and I mean absolutely everything - that I had believed, but not everything changed as a result. In the turmoil and turbulence, some things still stood. In fact, I went from believing without understanding to believing because I understood. Doctrine all but entirely blew away in the storm of belief and conscience. Belief essentially vanished, and I accepted the idea that nothing can be believed so much as guessed. George Christopher on Board to Death, played by Ted Danson, actually captured it quite well when he said that we're each starring in our own movies, just guessing about others'.

My therapist pointed out that this is certainly very, "pot thinking." Yes, some of these conclusions were drawn during use of cannabis, even blossomed into what they are in part because of it, but she also pointed out that it was very 'me' thinking to begin with, pot or no pot. It wasn't actually a tremendous leap from where I was already going. I would say that I went from religious, to spiritual, to... something else entirely. I believe in mysteriousness, and my inevitable ignorance of the world, as all else have, only confirms its existence. God has become a concept to embody all this chaos, these perfect and inevitable trajectories in a predetermined film. God becomes a synonym for the universe around us, and all which we could not possibly know. God is what we can see and cannot. God was no longer religious, but a word which could conceptualise an entirety beyond our comprehension. The world around us, too big to understand, too complex to see all of the trajectories, however inevitable, to know what will happen and what must happen. All that will not, is not. All that would is. All that was must have been, and all that was not could not have been.

There is a tremendous amount of freedom that comes from this evolution of thought. A weight of conscience, self-consciousness, and fear of the unknown began to dissipate. I have actually become more productive, more active, and been able to actually take care of myself in at least the minimum amount (I have had trouble taking care of myself on a day-to-day level for a decade, at least.) The culmination of relieving pointless guilt from fundamental beliefs and treating my myriad conditions with cannabis has effectively put me at a peak of functioning. Am I anywhere near being a standard, functional adult? I highly doubt it. But even terminal patients are given the possibility of living comfortably until the end. Some would say it's worth compensating more for a shorter life-span, but even a shorter life-span can't warrant such special treatment in such cases without considerable discomfort in need of relief. It is the discomforts, the struggles, the burdens which are being compensated for. I believe (or should I say 'strongly guess,' now?) everyone has the right to do what they think they need in order to tolerate life and all that comes with it. I'm not such a delusional optimist as to possibly think all will or could possibly get that comfort. I do think, however, that every person and thing in the universe does what it 'thinks' it must to be in the most comfortable, moderate state. I think quantum physics, thermodynamics, and chaos theory all support my stance and are applicable.

My belief system became synonymous with the most fundamental aspects of science: most notably, making best educated guesses given the information we are aware and, thus, exposed to, and using these 'best guesses' as our new, and forever metamorphosing, foundation. We intuitively try to make our foundations as solid as possible and forget that nothing is completely unchanging, let alone permanent. A balance is struck, to the best of our capabilities, between open-mindedness and scepticism, questioning absolutely everything while maintaining our stance until new evidence comes to light which says otherwise. We rely whole heartedly on the facts, real or perceived, at hand, but benefit most from the acceptance that the conclusions we draw can change as more of such facts come to light. We try our bests, no matter what, given what realities we form out of what information we can scrounge up. Every reality, for each individual, becomes equally real, and all capable of change when new information capable of swaying and mutating our beliefs becomes accepted. We cannot always accept, however, and some things can actually harden our resistance to acceptance of all sorts and forms, making us maintain our realities, often even in the face of new information. Absolute belief, or even extremely strong beliefs, can become fundamentally resistant to certain forms of acceptance when new information is presented, which sometimes has more destructive, rather than constructive, consequence.

This has been my journey into absurdist thought, and reconciling my consciousness, thus far.

Action and Reaction

I am bipolar. I am autistic. I am anxious. I am who and what I am. There is no golden standard, there is no mold. I replaced my meds almost completely with cannabis, and it has worked out quite well for me, but everything is relative. If I say how great the pot has been for me, people assume that must mean that I am now 'normal' (ish) and no longer have any problems. False. Let's say I used to function at 2%, then I started using cannabis and went up to, say, 10%. That's 400% increase in functioning. Wonderful, right? 400% is a big number! That's 5 times how much I was functioning before! So, all the problems are solved, right? No. 10% is still a far cry from 100. That number, also, would still be an average and not a constant. That means that one day might be 4%, another 15%, another 8%, and so on. Outside factors also heavily influence this. If I'm staying at home watching Netflix all day, I'm more likely to feel like I could function more if I wanted, but if I'm out doing new things in new places, I'm going to feel like I'm pushing or breaking my limit, which leads to overload, which can lead to either a meltdown or shut-down. Meltdowns have been more the typical result.

When I get anxious, I get irritable, and when I get irritable, I get angry. Getting angry can make me aggressive, and then people stand there in the aftermath with dazed expressions wondering what just happened. Poking the bear is what happened. If I escalate, that all but undoubtedly means something or someone is causing me to escalate. When it is a someone that is escalating me, as I get more aggressive, the other person tends to get more persistent, which causes a continual process until I explode, which works out for no one. All the person has to do is stop. Stop talking, stop trying to alter or help me, stop everything. Just stop and leave. That is what I need.

My overload, meltdowns, and anxiety are not just quirks, they're not just things I can get over, not just overreactions I can briefly contemplate and then change my mind completely to, "Oh, yeah, I guess you're right." That simply is not the case. I also cannot just put these things in my back pocket when it's most convenient for everyone else. There are things that are acute and things that are chronic, and they require entirely different approaches. For instance, an acute panic attack as a result of a chronic anxiety condition requires a far different approach than when I'm not in such an acute state and can address the more long-term issues (which still don't benefit from immediate attempts at change, but take time.)

My brother and his fiancée are getting married. As the wedding has gotten closer and closer, as well as more and more 'real,' my anxiety has begun to skyrocket. The real tipping point was the fitting for the tuxes. That was when things really took a nose dive off a skyscraper. I'm also known for my big, curly, unfettered, and crazy hair. I've had it in many different styles throughout my life, some I like looking back on more than others. But the point is that I had some modicum of control. I could decide what I wanted to do with it. As I'm diving toward the pavement, my hair acted like my parachute. It was something I could depend on to not surprise me, to be there as it was before. I could decide what I wanted to do with it. It might seem silly to others, but my hair is - in some ways - an anchor.

Well, as people started turning my hair and how it should look for the wedding into a bigger and bigger issue, it was like watching someone trying to cut holes in my parachute while I was still falling. Of course I would panic and even act aggressively in an attempt to get others to stop. Of course it triggered an extreme reaction in me. But people never have the whole picture. We only really get a tiny glimpse at our very own pictures, our own lives and minds. So I'm not going to take it well when people make grand assumptions and enforcements about how I should look, act, be... I wear the tux that feels uncomfortable, stuffy, and drives me nuts because that is what was chosen. I'm attending because it's asked of me. I'm being a groomsman because it was asked of me. All of those things produce incredible, unbearable anxiety, but I do them anyway. So... when I'm adamant about my hair, about how I want my hair to be, others can back off and let me be. I think it's not such a big problem to ask they give me that much.

Also, comments like 'act your age,' or 'you should do ___ because it's what people do,' or, 'you could be/do so much more' are all bullshit, and I'm going to call them bullshit. If I am drawing the line at my hair, everyone else can get over themselves and just give me that much. If not being pestered about my hair, if being able to wear it and have it exactly as I want, can alleviate some of the anxiety all the other things are causing, you can give me that. Taking that away is a really, really shitty thing to do.

We live in a world of people who demand instant change, instant fixes, instant gratification. It doesn't work. Some things virtually never change, even, while other things always change. The other side of the coin is how people desire things to always remain the same, hustling and bustling to keep it that way in the face of a universe that would tear them apart without hesitation. Wanting change isn't inherently bad, nor is wanting things to remain the same. It is healthy - even understandable - to attempt to change some things and keep others the same. All actions cause reactions, and the wisdom of what actions we choose to take derives from the difference between what we wanted to happen and what did happen. Doing something repeatedly despite seeing a different reaction than desired is generally unwise. All reactions are warranted based on all of the influencing factors, and are seldom the result of a single, isolated incident.

Miracle cures don't exist, and most things don't get better right away. For all I or anyone else knows, I could die young never having been what anyone hoped for, or even die old and have the same result. Hypothetical thoughts and beliefs are not realities or facts, and very well may never come true. The only things that 'should' happen are the things that do happen, and everything else is fantasy. No, I'm not going to grow up to be the president. I may never be 'healthy' and I certainly will never be anyone's idea of 'normal.' I get by. I survive. I manage. Do I want more? Sometimes, but I also realise that wanting something doesn't automatically make it happen. Do I try to improve myself? Of course, but sometimes you can only do so much, get so far, and you have to live with and accept what you cannot change. People who can't accept that some things can't be changed hack at it so much that they kill it, anyway, making any possible resulting change meaningless and inviable.

Everything happens for a reason, I do believe that. In the simplest form, this means A causes B. A little truer would be to say A causes B; B causes C; C causes D... and so on, but even that is a gross simplification. A causes B1 and B2. B1 causes C1 and C2, while B2 causes C3 and C4. C1 causes D1 and D2. C2 causes D3 and D4. C3 causes D5 and D6. C4 causes D7 and D8. Then the Ds cause the Es, the Es cause the Fs, the Fs cause the Gs, and so on, growing exponentially more and more complex, a chaotic system, everything with a place, a role, a cause and effect. I don't do things without an underlying reason: none of us do. My actions and reactions are a product of countless forces and factors, some seen while others unseen. My anxiety, irritability, overload, meltdowns, and aggression are all results (which cause more results, which cause more results...) Some are more acute forces at work, while others are slower and more chronic. While others may be able to do little about the more chronic forces, at least in a given moment, they can do something about the acute ones. When I'm tipping over the edge, people don't have to help push me over. The best thing to do, sometimes, is to back off and do nothing.

People may be enigmas, but enigmas are codes, and codes can be cracked. No enigma is without its solution, its cipher, which can interpret its coded messages. No actions are without cause, ever, and everything has a reason.

Anguish of the Stoic

          It's never easy living with someone who is chronically ill. I know this from experience on both sides. For about a decade, now, I've watched my grandfather's health wax and wane with an overall trend toward decline. This is the curse of mortality, at work. It's not as though his body is deteriorating young, exactly.
          Well, I had a talk with him. It wasn't a talk about hospice, or a 'home for the elderly,' or any of the conventional talks younger family members have with their elderly members. I had the cannabis talk. While medical marijuana has been legal for some time, now that it's also legal recreationally, it has been gaining more general acceptance and is more (legally) available. I think that we should've brought up medical marijuana a long time ago with my grandpa, but I've now had personal experience in the world of cannabis, and particularly with using it medically, so it has started to seem particularly timely. Chronic pain, fatigue, appetite problems, sleep troubles, weakness, flattened affect... Living in the same household, I can tell that every day is a struggle and a feat for him.
          I've replaced all of my medications for: bipolar, anxiety, fibromyalgia, and countless other issues big and small. Virtually every aspect of my well-being has been improved in some way. Mood swings are quite nearly nonexistence, my anxieties have vanished, and my pain is controlled better than ever before. I can do dozens of times more physical activity, have had a shift in my diet that's more protein heavy, and had relatively great sleep. Things taste better, but I don't actually have an excessive appetite or get the munchies more than usual. Most of my bodily functions seemed to have improved in some way. Elusive problems that I haven't been able to treat before have been getting treated for the first time. How could I see all these improvements in myself and not think to suggest it to my grandpa?
          At this point, there aren't particularly 'good days' and 'bad days.' They all are struggles. I've witnessed him in complete agony, embarrassment, guilt, and crippling disability. With each step up or down the stairs, he moves like a quaking mammoth, slow and shaky. His muscles are being cannibalised by his body, his joints inflaming, his insides seemingly smashed and beaten, his bones deteriorating. When he smiles, you can still see how worn out he has become, how weary and exhausted.
          This is a stoic man. He has been through a lot, but he doesn't like to show it. Our family is accustomed to keeping our struggles to ourselves, braving them silently. When we finally ask for help, it's usually at a time of severe desperation. So to hear him crying out for help while in extreme pain says a lot about what he's been going through.
          Grandpa has a weakness for chocolate (I call him the Candy Drawer Bandit), and so I mentioned chocolate edibles. Coming from a very conservative, Christian background, he reacted surprisingly openly-minded, but he still shows some hesitation. I saw that he did seem to deeply consider using cannabis medicinally. Still, ages-old biases do seem to also have some hold over him. I don't expect him to make an instant, or even overnight, decision, and I'm frankly encouraged that he seems to be quite seriously considering the suggestion. While it will always be his decision, I do hope he at least gives cannabis a decent chance. It's not a miracle drug. It doesn't spontaneously cure all ailments. Still, I do think cannabis is a close second. It would be a relief to see him get some relief. The various drugs and pills he's on only do so much, and they have some considerable risks. It would be good to see him feeling healthier.

I No Longer Believe in Good and Evil

           That title is not click bait. It's not a gimmick or an intentionally (or even unintentionally) extreme statement to draw a reaction. It's a concise statement of a fact.
           After years of contemplation, and not just a fifteen minute epiphany, I've come to the conclusion that there is no such thing as good or evil. I've said for some time that such things live and die with humans. We created the concepts, and that's about as far as it goes. But I had still accepted the existence of good and evil simply because I accepted the existence of humans. I continued to contemplate this. Eventually, I concluded that there simply is no good and evil, so far as the practising definition goes, I no longer believe in their existence, even with the existence of humans.
           There was something else that I've said for a while that seemed to contradict my prior belief that good and evil both existed, and lived and died, with humanity: that humans aren't special. This contradiction was that humans couldn't be both mundane and the sole cause of the existence of good and evil; that would make is special. But I stand by the belief that humans aren't special. We're animals, like any other. Like any other living organism, our point of view is singular, on the inside looking out. Porpoises both have extraordinary brains that rival our own, and sonic radar that literally makes other vertebrates, at least, considerably transparent. At the very least, any 'special' qualities we have are relativistically mundane and matched by qualities in other creatures.
           I believe in neither a mystical 'fate,' nor in true 'free will.' I believe in trajectories, inevitabilities, and variables so far beyond our range of comprehension that we turn to such supernatural explanations. This completely contradicts the existence of good and evil. In order for good and evil to exist, people must have complete, informed choice. The aforementioned trajectories essentially suggest that everything that happens is inevitable. This is close to 'fate,' but without the belief that some supernatural entity is guiding everything with a wilful hand.
           I also believe that choices still matter. Virtually everything can be seen as akin to chemical reactions: what people say and do causes a reaction in what others say and do. Animals often kill or cannibalise the weak and deformed, which serves a purpose. I still believe the creation of those creatures was inevitable. I still think that the animals that killed their own had some semblance of choice. The choice was to let that one of their own continue living and risk the whole group, or to kill the individual and improve the group's odds. Such logic doesn't always win, though, even amongst non-Homo sapiens. After all, we live in a world where pet monkeys save pet dogs from house fires. Altruism is also an evolutionary, practical mechanism.
           Right and wrong are different and variable. For instance, is it wrong for someone to kill another being? Well, that entirely depends on the intended result. If the individual who does the killing got the results they wanted, then - for them - that was the right thing to do. Maybe not ethical, but right for them. Actions cause reactions. Whatever actions and results an individual dislikes the most becomes 'evil' and 'wrong.' When a collective dislikes it, it becomes immoral and unethical. These are just more words for the things we don't like. We can have good reason for disliking them, but it doesn't mean there's any objective morality or supernatural influence at play.
           Without actual 'good' and 'bad,' most arguments become, on some level, moot. Still, when definitions are preset, people go along with them. This means that people can proudly self-describe as 'bad,' and still be more well-adjusted than someone who yet others describe as 'good.' We often seem to ascribe immutability to our concepts of good and evil, but everything is mutable. This is a world of chaos we ardently and futilely attempt to force order upon.
           Ideals are not realities, and should not be expected to be able to be reality. Ideals are ideal, Utopian - even, but not realistic. Ideals inevitably undermine diversity. Even liberal ideals inevitably face the very hard and immovable wall that diversity undermines getting along. The false belief of good and evil further undermines widespread (but not entire) peace and happiness. It's also a false belief that peace and happiness are always 'good' things. Take morality, take supernatural or self-centred justice, out of the equation, then there's more room for harmony, acceptance, and inclusion. To be clear, this does not mean everyone would be happy, there would be no more wars, and people would live peacefully ever after. It merely means that the concepts of good and evil often get in the way of some realistic amount of cohesion.
           If anyone reads this, they probably won't agree, at least not completely, with my assessments and ramblings. The one rationalisation I may prefer is that the concepts of good and evil are so deeply entrenched in our psyche that others can't accept their non-existence, but another conclusion is that - in accordance with my previous statements - we arrive at different conclusions and have different points of view. Everyone has independent experiences and points of view, so it's ignorant to think we can all arrive at the same ones, and arrogant to think everyone should arrive at the same conclusions as me. While I no longer believe in good and evil, I believe the concepts and beliefs have their functions, their roles, and their places. The beliefs of the concepts have effects and cause reactions, partly shaping the world into what it is. To seek eradication of the beliefs is a result of a sense of good and bad, and to defy diversity and range. Beliefs are the functions of individuals, but their influence on the individual is passed on to the individual's influence on others.

The Black Hole of Nihilism Born of Sisyphean Reality in the Face of Disability

     I've done what I think is a fair amount of 'cyber' activism. I'm not exactly the sort to get out into the world much, let alone carry picket signs on the streets. My alternative is, therefore, to spread information online via what limited networking I have available to me. Online, you turn up a whole lot of in-the-streets type of activism in articles, blogs, and news snippets. Both online and offline, however, I seem to notice the same, tired political agendas rebranded and renamed; the same old limited ideologies, tunnel vision, and Sisyphean 'feats.'
     The social movements mirror the world around: black and white. Sometimes, this is both literal and figurative. All or nothing, yes or no, binary 0s and 1s... All of these movements feel depressing and lifeless, no matter what side you're on, when you see this Weldschmertz-inducing pattern recognition. People become filters, catching causes and views as they pass by. Even individual qualities, unique points of view, end up just being a result of collectivity. I learned some time ago that people are only unique so far as their particular collection of otherwise mundane qualities go. This seems to be far truer with crowds and groups, becoming a singular organism comprised of a collective. Drones of many species, but most renowned of bees, serve a purpose. There is more strength in a collective than an individual. Individuals who make impacts do so by forming a collective around them.
     I am acknowledging that they serve a purpose in nature, in life and societies. They're naturally occurring. Herds, colonies, flocks, swarms, and so on. Humans are not unique or special. Humans are not supernatural (as in 'above' or 'beyond nature.') Rather, because of the very nature of our existence, we are well within the confines of nature, like any other living organism. We are animals, factually and not pejoratively. The things we do and make are within the confines of nature by the very fact that they do not extend beyond natural laws, the laws of physics, chemistry...
     The more I try to stop and think before diving into a new idea, view, movement, or ideology, the more I find myself at a standstill. The more I try to be active in the world, the more I seem to become a drone. It seems impossible to be both an independent thinker and an active force in the world. Even the 'queens' of the world that seem to control the 'drones' seem to be the result of the same continuous patterns of nature, without true unique, independent thought. They're just one more kind of amalgam of experiences and information passed down one generation to the next.
     At what point does activism just become politics, or is it all the same, in the end? When are politics ideals? Ideals biological impulses? Biological impulses chemistry? It seems as though it is as likely for free-will to exist as it is for it to all be a delusional sham: vibrations and reactions that can all be accounted for in algorithmic form. What's the meaning of life? Maybe there is none. Do any of us matter? Perhaps as likely as not (think something like Schrödinger's cat.) It's these same questions, which often lead nowhere, in the end, that get me in the locked-up standstill. But being active in the world often involves foregoing thought, more or less, and submitting to a sort of herd or tribe mentality.
     It's all exhausting. It's all mind-numbing. My version of "increased activity" or "improvement" is typically still a fraction of the statistical mean. I have what seems to be an incredibly limited amount of action and energy to devote to anything, each day, often building up to some kind of combustion, which temporarily disrupts even that limitation. It's incredibly frustrating knowing that, no matter what treatments, therapies, or strategies I try out, I will always have such a finite amount of energy to devote to anything in life. Forces my hand to either pick-and-choose extremely selectively, or to give up and do nothing. Freeze instead of bothering to make such choices. I lose faith in causes, movements, activism... I lose faith in life and purpose...
    Some with similar struggles and obstacles as myself (mood disorders, anxiety disorders, chronic pain and fatigue, autism, take your pick) often drown themselves in activism and causes. At some point, however, I watch these people and can pick apart their actions, their positions, and always conclude either a delusion of free will or simple futility. I find some kind of flaw, some kind of hypocrisy or contradiction, in their ideologies, actions, views... No matter how passionate I become, how certain and filled with conviction I become, I always arrive at the same place of disillusionment, exhaustion, and pointlessness. And then... I begin rolling the boulder back up the hill, once again.

Ex Machina, Empathy, and Autism

I just finished watching the film, Ex Machina, and - while I thought much of it was interesting and thought provoking - there were some parts that made me cringe. The most cringe-worthy moment for me was when the protagonist made this remark:

CALEB: It got me thinking. In a way, the joke is the best indication of AI I’ve seen in her. It’s discretely complicated. Kind of non-autistic.
NATHAN: What do you mean?
CALEB: It was a play on words, and a play on me. She could only do that with an awareness of her own mind, and also of awareness of mine.

Obviously, the writer has not seen how much autistics can love puns and such... Joking aside, though, this is a perpetuation of the old trope, stereotype, myth that autistics do not have empathy (Asperger's Syndrome, in fact, used to be called autistic psychopathy.) The idea is that if you can read someone's expression and respond accordingly, you are empathic, and therefore more human than machine (so... autistics are less human and more machine?) There's one serious problem with this, though. Take, for instance, the fact that computers are easily more capable of identifying facial expressions and responding accordingly given the right coding without being anywhere near an A.I. So... simple (relatively speaking) machines are more empathic than humans, now?

Autistics do, in fact, often have trouble identifying facial expressions, their meaning, associated emotions, and attaching those expressions to reasons, causes. This can cause confusion, certainly, and social turmoil. Autistics can also learn all those things because it's a simple case of "if x, then y." It is hardly algorithmic and more a simple set of equations. But if anyone said that understanding human behavior is easy enough for the general public, they're just plain moronic. Training, experience, and memorisation can only get anyone so far. More 'neurotypical' brains may tend to devote more faculties innately to the recognition of facial expressions and tying them accurately to a cause, but this does not remotely make the person more empathic.

Empathy is a noun that comprises both empathetic and empathic abilities. Empathetic, in its most linear form, simply means 'pertaining to understanding some aspect or aspects of someone else's place in the world at some time or place.' For instance, to identify that a person reduced to the fetal position in a ditch as aircraft fly above dropping bombs is probably terrified. Empathic, however, means more that which pertains to feeling someone else's emotions, creating a sort of sync between oneself and another, emotionally.

The A.I. in that movie, AVA, in my opinion, did not seem glaringly autistic, but since autism really only refers to a particular type of neurology that isn't always noticeable on the surface, perhaps her man-made brain would bear similarities to an autistic one if it could be mapped the same way. This wouldn't make her any more or less of a being, nor would it necessarily have a tremendous impact on if she can have empathy or not. There are also two different kinds of empathy: emotional and intellectual. Intellectual empathy is not barren in psychopaths, often regarded as lacking empathy. Emotional empathy can be abundant in autistics, often regarded as lacking empathy. What this means is that psychopaths are more likely to be able to intellectualise and analyse human behavior, and from that point of view, deduce how and why a person might act or feel a certain way given the certain circumstances at hand.

Autistics can lack in this particular type of empathy, as I know I have throughout my own life, but we're often enough strong in emotional empathy, as previously stated. Emotional empathy is being able to connect with another on an emotional level, instinctively sensing how others are feeling. Note that this does not necessarily mean there is any capability of drawing accurate conclusions as to how or why the person is feeling that way. The simple fact is that if someone is sad, we may feel sad, too. If they are agitated, we might become agitated. If they're happy, we might become happy. Even if we, personally, do not become filled with the emotion, itself, we can often enough sense it.

So, the common misconception of autistics lacking empathy is merely the observation of how autistic frequently may have difficulty drawing accurate conclusions as to why people feel the way they do, or understanding specific facial expressions or socially normative behaviors. These are things a computer can be easily and readily programmed to do, especially given something as rudimentary as a camera to draw visual data. Computers can detect lies, honesty, facial and micro-expressions, and draw conclusions far more readily and accurately than any human. Yet this is what others seem to identify as empathy, and which they see autistics as lacking. 'Lack' is frankly a trivial word to use, in the first place. A basketball player might 'lack' the ice-skating ability necessary for hockey, but does that mean they're 'lacking' as an athlete? The perceived lack of ability is only relative to some particular norm, such as necessary skills for playing hockey. But the athlete might do just well as a basketball player, and may only show deficit when attempting hockey. If they so wish to play hockey, they can just start learning the necessary skills, and if those skills don't come to them naturally or at all like they may for some others, it does not mean they are 'lacking' as an athlete, overall. (Now, I hate sports, so that was quite the analogy for me to draw up, but I think it fits and most people will get it.)

Autistics can make jokes, be emotionally and cognitively complex and layered, be plenty aware of others and others' cognizance, be empathetic on a variety of levels, and we're not robots. Also, if such a kind of empathy as being able to recognise emotions, expressions, and behaviors, and then draw conclusions from them, were a true sign of sentience, consciousness, and intelligence, then computers have been sentient, conscious, and intelligent for a while, now. But they aren't, so that must not be the actual determiner of such things. In the hierarchy of things, this film seems to place computers anywhere from somewhere below to on-par with autistics, then everyone else above autistics, and A.I. above all else.

In an interview, the director of the film, Alex Garland had this to say:

Well, I mean, basically, what I’ll tell you is that where I come from with regard to scientists is to my mind slightly different to the way they’re often perceived. It seems to me like scientists are often presented as being autistic, or having Aspergers or something a la “The Imitation Game,” which, I’m pretty sure, is not what Alan Turing was actually like anyway. So either you go that kind of route, or they’re presented as being the holders of truth, these dry truth-holders who refuse to listen to emotion. And maybe that’s actually related to the sort of “Aspergers-y” presentation.

Autistics, Asperger's included, often seem to refuse to listen to emotion because of a history of being overly emotional. Certainly, there are those of us who are actually much more analytical, objective, and rational, but this is a personality trait, not so much the outright result of autism. But autistics are just human, like anyone else, which means we have the same sorts of variance of personality and qualities as anyone else. One autistic may, in fact, be very aloof, analytical, and cold, even, but that doesn't mean we all are. Some might be very emotional, irrational, and impulsive, but that doesn't mean we all are. And then there's a whole range, spectrum, between the two poles.

My person experience is that I'm a highly emotional and empathetic individual with very high emotional intelligence, but human behavior can still baffle me, like how it can baffle anyone at certain points; I may also have difficulty discerning what certain behaviors and facial expressions mean, especially if I haven't encountered them very often. However, when I become too emotionally or sensorily overloaded, it feels like my brain 'shuts down,' and I temporarily reboot with only the bare necessities of analytical capability. This can make me seem cold, aloof, distant, and emotional vacant, but I can assure you that I'm not. In fact, my feelings can still get hurt, I can still become confused by others, and I can still try and want to be emotionally sensitive to others. It is simply a self-regulatory mechanism to allow my emotional and sensory functions to recuperate. It is partly due to others' ignorance and misunderstandings that it has taken me roughly the first 20 years of my life to learn this about myself, and it can take yet others far, far longer, if they ever reach that point. Misinformation, misunderstanding, stereotypes, and myths can all do tremendous damage, and this has been seen regularly throughout the autistic community.

So, no, the hierarchy does not have autistics at the bottom with simple, non-sentient machines, and non-autistics, or at least 'neurotypical' sorts above us. Rather, autistics and non-autistics are just as human and sentient as one another... and then A.I. remain above us all, because, damn it, they have super-computers for brains!

I Reminisce of Sepia-Steeped Days

Either way, I'm fucked,
Fucked with or without you.
I'd rather rot alone
Than make you rot with me, too.

As much as I may want to spend my every waking moment
Laying beside you in hopes of just one solitary dream,
I just know that I'd pull you down to my depths;
I'd rather die alone than let you hear my silent screams.

I reminisce
Of sepia-steeped days;
A younger me
Who still happily plays.
I remember dragons
Flying high above the swings
As I close my eyes;
When nature still sings.

I've seen a million lands
Reaching to the depths of my mind.
I've seen verdant valleys,
And I've seen much darker kinds.
I want badly to return,
And it's not that I don't try.
But these days are days
I'm just more prone to cry.

There's no magic bean
To grow a magic bean stalk.
Never again will I be clean
On this path I'm doomed to walk.
There are no magical lands
For me to be whisked off to.
I watch the falling sands;
Oh, where the time flew.

I reminisce
Of sepia-steeped days
As I close my eyes,
When nature still sings...

Opening the Floodgates

I want to write this... but I'm not really sure how, at the moment... I've been struggling with my mind, lately. I've been struggling with urges of self-harm. I've been struggling with my heart, and where I want to go in life. I'd looked into the lock box I keep my meds in, after having refilled my pill boxes. I grabbed a half of an edible, and several hours later, here I am.

I can feel everything. I feel as though I am more hyper-aware of my five senses, allowing me to feel each and every minute sensation in complete detail. I feel more aware. I float beneath my eyes, from the vantage of the third eye, watching, feeling everything around me. I can feel so deeply, it reaches into another dimension.

I started watching an episode of Bones where the forensic anthropologist interns are tasked with identifying remains previously deemed unidentifiable. One of the remains becomes the primary focus because it was found to be directly related to 9/11. A homeless man, previously a Desert Storm veteran, was forgotten in our history, and the interns work to give this skeleton, this man... his life back. It's a tearjerker for even those not familiar with the series, I guarantee. They all recall the exact snippet of their lives in which 9/11 occurs. I couldn't help, after monologue after monologue, burst into tears.

The longer I endured crying about my own memories, suddenly unlocked and profoundly powerful, of 9/11 in my own life, the more I began to realise that my tears were for something else entirely. Officially, I arrived to the mutual severance of my longest and most profound relationship ever before. The show unlocked a gate to my true feelings in my life at this time.

I cried and grieved for a relationship lost. I grieved in acknowledgement of the profound power this loss has had in my life. I grieved for a love deeper than I had ever felt before. I acknowledged the profound nature of this transition and new path. 

Every inch of growth is a profound rebirth.

The Struggle of Struggling

Why is admitting to having a struggle so... well, much of a struggle? Why does it seem so impossible to change our perceptions of struggle being weakness? Largely, I would say, it is from past experiences when we admitted to struggling, or even just tested the waters with a small glimpse suggesting we might be struggling. After hearing phrases like, "Get over it," or "Pull yourself up by the bootstraps," or even "I'm so sorry for you!", we simply equate struggle of any kind to weakness. In our eyes, according to the clandestine, unspoken rule of society, we are never supposed to struggle. No, struggle means you're failing, and failing means you ARE a failure. This is why it's so difficult.

So what do those of us who are struggling do? Many need help, but are far too reluctant to ask for any. Their burdens become buried deep within the heart, eating away at the soul like wood rot setting in. If we do this for too long, our very foundations become so rotted and weak that we simply fall apart and collapse within ourselves. There is also another reason for not wanting to share that one is struggling: we don't want to be a 'burden' to others. It is this thought that we should never have to rely on others, let alone add any extra burden to their lives, but that is what is most important about having others in our lives. We are not social creatures who form bonds and communities because we are completely self-sufficient. No, we do this so that we can rely on one another when the need arises, and yet we don't. We continue to suppress our feelings and bury them deeply within ourselves.

I've noticed a common theme, in that those who take on everyone else's burdens bury their own burdens deep inside as to not burden anyone else. So carrying all of one's own burdens, and the burdens of others, becomes so impossibly exhaustive and destructive that we either implode or explode. Neither is good at all. We empaths, who connect on the deepest levels with others, and who feel a sense of duty and devotion to help relieve the world of sorrow and darkness, well... we try to stuff all of that sorrow and darkness within ourselves. We often feel that our purpose in life is not to ever be happy, but to soak up all of the darkness in the world that we can so that others don't have to have darkness in their lives, but this is an impossible, Sisyphean feat which could never be truly accomplished. No matter how good our intentions, no good truly comes of this self-destructive cycle. It eats away at us, one little nibble at a time.

So, in conclusion, we all need to try to lean on others a little more. We need to seek help more, confide in others more, and not be so afraid to share our struggles with others. But, in this same spirit, we should also try our best to help ourselves out of the struggle, and not rely wholly on others. Neither extreme is good or healthy in any way. A balance must be attained where everyone can feel safe to share their burdens, yet a commitment to also try to solve those burdens. It's never a bad thing to need to ask for help.

Embracing the Whole

I move forward and backward in time... I can feel my heart pulsating through my body, a mixture of heaviness and lightness in my limbs, a feeling as though - at any moment - gravity might disappear and I'll begin to float, suspended weightless mass that is caving in on itself. My breathing shallow, my head in a sort of daze, I struggle to think words, and yet I contemplate things far more complex than I otherwise could. In this state, the outside world both exists and doesn't. I feel as though on the outside looking in, seeing our entire dimension from another. The world is both vibrant and colorless, both light and dark, both shapeless and concrete. I feel as though I sink into my body, going further and further back into some darkness infinitely, and yet always contained in my body. I feel both within and detached from my physical being. The world, all existence, pulses with waves of energy.

I feel so separate from the world, and yet I feel closer than ever. I feel whole, yet I feel destined never to connect with another in the truly human way as I've ascended (yet sunken inside of myself) to spiritual transcendence. It's somewhat lonely and cold, yet I feel a warmth as though embracing and old friend with a powerful sense of nostalgia. I feel limitless sentimentality. I see my life fly by as though on a grand film, crossing and interweaving with countless others'. I'm an observer. No matter how much I wish to intervene, to take action, I float listlessly on the outside, in another state of consciousness, of being. All war, all conflict, seems menial and pointless. In this dimension, there is no good or bad, no positive or negative, no suffering or ambitions... All things simply exist. All things simply are.

A womanly figure made of spiritual essence embraces me with warm, open arms, kissing me and, in doing so, releases all that is tied to my mortality. All my worries, all my strife, all my struggles released. Everything flows freely into the ocean of time and space at once, each individual moment, though, actions, feeling a single drop in the infinite sea. My relationship to existence becomes like music. I am not hearing what is originating from one source to my being through direct transference, but by vibrations through the air that eventually reach me. I am exposed to all the universe, and yet it's only indirectly. I'm outside, but consumed.

This is but a vision of my eventual fate. As I die and decompose, I will become, once again, a part of the whole, giving and taking, creating and destroying. My spirit will float freely in a parallel existence, observing the entirety of the universe all at once and forever now, then, and to come. Up, down, forward, backward, side to side... None of these things exist, no Euclidean plane to pinpoint and exact. No, this is the quantum world, where past, present, and future, and all directions in time and space, exist in one place and everywhere at the same time, infinitely. This is the home I have forgotten. This is the home I will always return to...

On: The Self

I often feel surreally on the outside looking in, as though I know something that the entirety of the rest of the world is somehow blind to. I think how ignorant and foolish mankind is as I stare down at them in astonished wonderment as to how they could be so stupid! And then, after some time, I realise I was looking in the mirror but hadn't realise it. I realise how ignorant and arrogant I was, not to mention presumptuous. I just find it far easier to criticise and call out others in those regards than to call myself out. But then, I wonder, how am I supposed to teach anyone anything if I don't call them out, if I don't criticise them..? I'm not criticising in the most common sense, but in the sense of a well-meaning critique, intended to help provide guidance and improvement, yes? No, not so much. At least... not with the exclusion of myself. I cannot drone on about how no one is special without saying that I am not special. I cannot drone on about equality while raising myself above others. I cannot drone on about how selfless I am without saying how selfish I am, as well. There are two sides to every coin, after all, and I even say often enough how much duality has veins deep within my world-view and personal philosophies.

But this arrogance of my act simply demonstrates the point! I point out other's ignorance or arrogance, but in doing so, must also confront and point out my own. My spiritual views are pantheistic, and I believe all that is is God, and therefore God is all that is. Doesn't conflict with the bible, nor many other religious views, either, which I'm contented about. I also see the entire universe as fractals from the smallest things in existence to the very largest. Patterns woven into the fabric of reality over and over, creating bigger and bigger versions of those same patterns. I believe all is one, and one is all. Therefore, whenever I say something of someone else I hold to be true, is that not therefore true of me in some way? Is the world around me, and all those who fill it, not simply a reflection of myself in some way?

When I lash out, it's because I'm also lashing in, in essence. My loathing of the world tends to merely reflect my self-loathing. Likewise, others being happy can very well make me happy, even if I have no idea who it is that is happy – I merely know that they are happy, and that's enough. Their happiness makes me happy because the two – I and they – are reflections of one another. Likewise, I preach letting go of the ego – or the self – in favor of living for others, and yet acknowledge the necessity of serving one's self, lest they cannot serve others. Serving others, however, serves the self, just as much as one must serve the self in order to serve others. The two are one and the same, so really, I mean that one must let go of the illusion that the two are different. Oneness with God, in my views, is no different than Oneness with the Universe. Therefore, loving thy neighbor is fundamentally loving thyself, as well. These are what I personally hold to be mutually inalienable truths.

If others are delusional, then so am I. If others are dumb, then so am I. If others are selfish, then so am I. However... if others are intelligent, then so am I. If others are beautiful, then so am I. If others are loving, then so am I. One is One with God whether one wishes it or not, and yet I see Hell as the dissonance of one from God (and, therefore, the universe, including those around them.) This dissonance, this disconnect, causes friction and frustration, discord and dysphoria. You can believe or not believe in God, it does not matter. You can see God as merely a literary device or metaphor, but I implore you not to let religion or semantics get in the way of these words I write.

Accept your flaws when you can. Accept the flaws of others when you can. Accept your good qualities when you can. Accept the good qualities of others when you can. Accept yourself for who you are, but accept others for who they are, as well. This does not mean you should become complacent. This does not mean there is no need, nor reason, to change. However, in the moment, all is as it is, and nothing can change that, as change happens over time, and therefore cannot happen in the moment that all is as it is. Accept that you do not have power over all, but also accept that you are a part of the universal power over all that exists. The point is not to succeed in these things, nor is it to become a 'perfect' human being. Rather, by accepting these things, you accept the reality that such is quite impossible, and that no one is perfect. The point is simply to try. Try for yourself, but also try for others. Try for others for yourself, and try for yourself for others. Give to the universe, and you give to yourself. Give to yourself, and you give to the universe. However, by making a distinction, by giving to yourself purely for your own sake, you breed dissonance and discord with the universe, and by giving to the universe purely for the universe's sake, you breed self-destruction.

Shut-Down

If, in person, I seem mute, it's not my intention. My mind is going a million miles per hour, screaming, but my lips don't move, my voice does not resonate. As I become more and more overwhelmed, my body starts to shut down, piece by piece, and my voice is quite often one of those things that just seems to 'turn off.' At the worst, I can become totally non-responsive, and yet consciously and fully aware (except that my eyes also may be closed.) I become trapped in a shell that is my body, struggling to move even a single finger. Fear and terror fill my mind and turn into a cyclonic fireball of utter self-loathing and destruction. But this is all inside. No one can hear it, and no one can hear me. I scream, but not a noise comes out. I can appear almost dead, breathing shallowly, unresponsive to most stimuli, unable to speak or move, eyes often closed. And yet... I'm still there. My mind is still present. And so I am simply left there to listen, to feel, to hear, to smell, to taste, and sometimes - if I can manage to open my eyes - to see. But, with all of these things, I still cannot seem to interact with the world around me. Others begin to feel or treat me like I no longer exist, or like I'm some petulant poltergeist trying to nudge, pull, squeak - trying to make any kind of outward communication possible.

Many people can be left speechless. This is a whole other thing. Imagine being an android, but believing that you're a human. Suddenly, as if by remote control, your arms stop working. Someone just turned them off. No matter what you try to do, you can't move them voluntarily. Next, your legs. You collapse, unable to hold your own body up. You try to call for help, but your voice also got turned off. You have trouble moving your jaw, your lips, and your eyes get extremely heavy. All of your nerves still work, so you can feel every sensation, you are present of mind, but trapped inside of the cage that your body has become, unable to be heard, unable to do anything at all. It's isolating... Dreadful... One of the only things I can think of that might embody the true Hell.

Love..?

Dead.

Joy..?

Dead.

Hope..?

Dead.

Rationality..?

Dead.

Reality?

Dead.

People get divorced over this. Realities become so warped that it infects the actualities of the reality. What is depression? The brain... literally - and I do not mean figuratively, but literally - dying. Brain cells start decaying and dying, neural activity lessons, the spiritual and emotional centres of the brain undergo a brownout where all positivity is severed from consciousness. The happiness, joy, and love being stripped from you, and so suddenly, shreds your heart apart. You question everything you thought was true, and begin to doubt everything.


"Do I really love her?"

"Is this what I want for my life?"

"I'll never be happy again."

"Everything hurts."

"There's no forward, backward, left or right. I'm lost."

"I'll never get out of this dungeon!"

"Kill me. Please, kill me."

"I want to stab myself in the head with a pitchfork."

"I don't want you to see me like this!"

"Help... Please... Help me."

"I'm already dead inside. Just end my misery."

"No future... There is no future..."

"No one loves me."

"AHHHHHHHH!"

"I scream and scream, but nobody hears me."

"Trapped, locked in this cage. I can't get out. I'll die here."

"I can't take it anymore!"

"The world is better off without me."

These are the things people with major depression truly feel, think, and sometimes even say.