For psychoanalysis, an adult’s desire derives from the other of having been a child: the separation from the womb institutes eternal ‘lacking’, sublimating persons into projected forms of other ‘be’-ings that are imbued with qualities to later on introject …show more content…
A form of ‘cultural apoptosis’: the ‘cells’, or individuals, subject to the culture of the body, self-destruct when stimuli or a suppressing agent is introduced in the systemic removal of damaged, disrupted, or unwanted cells. The synthesis of humanity predicates a break in the ‘chain of signifiers’; whereby, individuation therefore has a ‘half-life’: “Just as [the tightrope walker] reached the middle of his course [a] buffoon sprang out[:] ‘Forward, lame-foot!’ cried his fearsome voice, ‘forward sluggard, intruder, pallid-face! Lest I tickle you with my heels! [Y]ou are blocking the way of a better man …show more content…
‘What’s wrong with you? Can you not see what they see? Do you not understand you are sick? You always fail. You always make things hurt. It will not get any better. I hope you realize this. I will not let you forget.’ The tighter the heart strings pull in fear, it tunes the tones of what the mind holds most dear. “‘I lack the lion’s voice for command.’ Then again something said to me as in a whisper: ‘It is the stillest words which bring the storm. Thoughts that come on doves’ feet guide the world”. Depression is not symptomatic of a ‘bleeding heart’ or ‘clouded vision,’—depression is the asphyxiation of an impassable heat, the suffocation of a dry well, the vacuousness of a clogged bastion, an emptiness where tears should replenish: ‘Who do we sit with to affirm our humanity? With depression I have nothing to grasp onto! With gender, of course! With race, absolutely! With nationality, it is a necessity! Yet this is the uncanny bit: all those things are voids, brought in being. Depression, when brought into being, is the void. All those things that do not exist biologically—as ‘no’ things—are made into something. The physiology of depression—as ‘some’ thing—is made into absolutely nothing’. ‘I am ashamed.’ “Then again something said to me voicelessly: ‘You must yet become a child without