Everything Happens A Certain Way

Throughout history, everything happens a certain way. Not the same way every time. Not even the expected way. Just a certain way that creates the situation for specific results to occur. Why?

Maybe there is a force, or some overall prevailing condition that allows those events to be as they are. As they may become. To develop into a prescribed set of arbitrary actions.

Frustrations ruminate and try to evolve. The evolution of these newly considered feelings and influences begin their existence as an amorphous living structure, sprouting and growing in a vine-like manner. Pressing against the nearest structured edifice, while staying out of the brilliant sunlight or frigid atmosphere. All-the-while, retaining the acquired form of that initial seed of inspiration. But, the frustrations continue to be. Continual change discovers an infinite array of potential sequels, inviting variation to develop into more highly-diversified results.

The so-called “invisible hand” described by Adam Smith in his book The Wealth of Nations is a non-observable force that controls the law of supply and demand to become a market equilibrium. Yet, in modern times, this equilibrium has been conditionally less than achievable. Instead, all manner of human conditions have saturated and fractured the lifestyles and existence of so many as to become irregular and cancerous to our normal society.

This is just one uniquely pertinent point of view. It is derived from personal conditions and experiences. Absolutely no other person or entity can or may ever have these precise circumstances of that lone context. That reality exists one time only. As it happens; it also dissipates into the ether. It came and it went away.

That is now my dilemma. What was can never be. What was once being developed to create one non-variable line of existence is no more. I am who, and what, is left over.

My deepest thoughts have been clutched and annexed away, deep into some God-forsaken mental underworld of my mind that I did not know even existed. Perhaps those thoughts were disjointed enough to create a symptomatic form of cognitive derision. My recovery from the severe brain trauma may have become a sort of intellectual dissonance, haunting my existence for the rest of my eternity.

I did not recover fully. A large chunk of my existence ceased to exist. That is why I am merely a left over portion of what may have been, what could have been, what can never be again. I am me.

As I struggle and strive to express myself using common language, the words I may have used in my former life elude me. I have tried to replenish my own vocabulary in order to state my personal feelings and thoughts with learned words, using a concise and economical discourse. I unashamedly use literary tools to help create my thoughts on paper, or on my computer screen. Many times I can and I will stray from my preconceived subject. Adam Smith may not be so proud of me and my not so prudent literary discourse.