Fragmentation

I’ve been playing a part or ‘the part’ my whole life and know no other way. Except nowadays, I’m actively aware of the fractures that have torn the identity of ‘me’ into a number of sub-characters: Happy Me, Sad Me, Agitated Me, Cunning Me, Heroic Me, Angelic Me, and so on. I have finally wisened up to my roller-coaster state of mind as my attention frequently shifts towards another mode of thinking in a neighbouring zone.

When I have a problem or see a challenge, which could be any relationship breakdown, or a program overload or byproduct from life, and I fail to address it sufficiently, I escape one fragment of my mind by moving and annexing my attention straight into and under another one.

In a well-crafted lifetime pattern, I would always find a convenient way to flee the pressure from the seized cogs in one dense mental zone, settling instead into an area with far less immediate disruption on my nervous system. This desperate form of mental road-tripping became famously known as ‘my escape’. But not long after each trip, my problems ultimately pulled me back out of my comfort zone to face the initial cause that threw things out of whack. It was always a big struggle to find any long-term escape, unless I was under the influence of something or another.

Rather than continue facing the challenges dealt by my big bad world, I’d struggle with myself and end up saying, “let’s postpone it one more time”, while journeying off into another land to indulge in my favourite itinerary.

By repeatedly exploiting my mind for another set of overriding pleasant cinematic thoughts from the Thought Bank, I was taking out a string of high-interest loans, if you will. But I didn’t mind at all, as the captivation I felt once the show started formed the shield I needed to push all of my problems aside, thereby transporting my attention far away from undesirable pressure. From one loan to the next, each short term sensational getaway would play tricks on my mind by morphing into a sense of resolution that satisfied any insecurities at the time.

In my sanctuary, I’d happily extend my stay for as long as I could, navigating into other closely related systems of fruitful thought. I would drift further into the daze until my visa expired and that dreadful negative space came back.