The Chances and Options Theory

In life we meet this traffic of chances, running in an abrupt and massive stream. As these chances present themselves to us like unwanted guests in a rainstorm in a remote rural village, we find the inevitable option: which is to choose an option, whatever it may be.
What happens here is a quick primitive instinct, far from rational, it comes to a fight or flight pattern. Case in point: When your girlfriend says to you “I wanna marry you” the simplest reaction is shutting her up by seducing her into an equally primitive state of sexual arousal distracting her of the obvious reaction we should have given. Eluding the fact that we must choose an agree or disagree type of reaction to statement of sorts is one form of option, bear in mind that to not choose is an option. So to choose an option is not the same as making a choice, a choice is a set of standardized options inside the plane of norms, self constructed options may well not be what you call ‘normative’.
There is however a probability of finding dilemmatic problems in this scheme of chances and options, mostly in some unique cases. At some times, the option to elude seems to dissipate, how hard we may try to construct it. The fact when someone adds “…or what?!” – notice the punctuations – in any form of question can intimidate someone to the levels of ‘loopholing disability’ (the inability for someone to find supporting loopholes supporting one’s escape) an example is “do you still want to do this or what ?!” (doing this refers to a very fuzzy relationship).
This theory in many ways may seem simplistic and dumbfounded, but have you ever traced back previous chances and options, how you became what you are now? In a way, chances and options determine our paths, relentless of what they say about destiny.

Series of panic attacks:

To be anxious for no reason whatsoever is okay, but to be in a state of originating depression is somewhat frustrating. You understand the cause and mechanisms but still cant understand how to cope and control it. This in turn creates a heightened sense of anxiety making it even harder to cope… What the hell am i even writing here, these personal blahs of unimportance. Wastage of time and mind. Why does this shell feels crushing and claustrophobic?

The little one on my shoulder

So, as rationality fades we often lean to the side of the metaphysic. The unexplainable mystical creatures we share our plane of reality with.

As an acquaintance pointed out, it seems that there is some skinny, small, snakelike being, following out of the two extremes of either attraction or dislike. This – well not fact actually… whats the word here… – assumption of being followed by some unseen being, reshaping points of view of rational flow of logic for the cause of recent temper tantrums and restlessness.

A small skinny snakelike creature hanging out on my shoulder. Somewhat absurd yet believable to some extent – giving the circumstances of experiences with the mystical. As write this estranged ramble he should be reading this with me… trying to understand these symbols of meaningless, scratching its head, sometimes its balls – due to the “assumed” primitive and uncivilized nature of the creature – hanging out without purpose or concern of time.

Such wasteful creatures…..

On irrational insecurities:

Enclosed in wax, stiff, and secure… The ideal type for those unwilling to grasp reality, that dynamics of life, ever-changing in every way drag us about, like being tied to a raging bull by the feet in mud infested marshes. Must we really have the non-logical fears grabbing hold of us in some sort of claustrophobic manner? The fact is we tend to over-react to minuscule dilemmas and/or problems. Intentionally failing to understand circumstances under certain terms, generalizing every factual aspect in front of us. Some sort of natural sadomasochistic instinct to block us from thinking straight, hurting ourselves. Every stereotypical emo’s fantasy…
We tend to think about the forthcoming pain, when in fact there is no pain at all. The fear that builds the pain, rendering it into some form of reality, choking ourselves into despair and melancholy.
Confusion… of what to feel, how we feel it, and the norms of when and where. Misplaced and unsolved, we then zombify ourselves into a relentless frenzy of regrets of what we should have done in the past.
The fact is there was nothing to be done, a path chosen out of chances and options that were there, static and waiting, until the tides of time sweep those very chances and options dragging them away with little hope of ever resurfacing.
But yet here we are… back to regretting those times past and lost. Waiting for a glimpse of it, those lost and dead pasts, in search of redemption and justification of our then unstable egos.
But what has past, has past, and the future is ever changeable. So we justify ourselves to move on and rest our heads on the dynamics of life, accepting the empirical calming the irrational insecurities.

Yet, despite these kind words of logic, the emotional thought has its own flowchart in mind, bending realities into mush abstract uncertainties, numbing and invisible. Cocooning us back into those wax coffins in which we reside.

Twisted, deranged, abstract entities…

… that are ourselves. We somehow find ourselves trapped in these unlikely situations of which a dillema hangs above our heads, threatening our very idealisms versus the easy yet not amusing way out. (pause)  Just me then, weird how we feel this short excitement with a hint of euphoria and falling back into depression once again. These deranging thoughts of miscalculated choices, of rationality gone wrong, and of no one to blame.  But yet we live, and yet we follow through with life as it is. Simple plain feelings of remorse and loss catastrophically mutate into some kind of disastrous self-pity, numbing everything else.