First | https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1265366621/ Prev | Nah Next | https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1265591048/ Tridential Sovereignty, under the mask of a man the people call Chonnathan Jash, or as many call him, Chonny Jash, is separated into the three parts of man. The Heart, a soft emotional side, responsible for empathy, love, tragedy and comedy, The Mind, a mechanical, logical side, a steadfast machine in computing and practicality, and finally, The Soul, the personality behind the mask, the morality and will driving the vessel to carry on or quit. How is this important? Sometimes, and especially in Chonny’s case, the parts do not manage and navigate like they usually should. Some call it Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID, others call it a symptom of psychosis, requiring outside help to become “fixed”, like medication or therapy. While that may be able to dull this aching pain between the man’s eyes, it’s impossible to cure such an “ailment” that is the split between The Heart, The Mind and The Soul. There’s nothing better than zooming into the headspace, getting a scope of what may be happening and firing away at anything that may arise conflict. But The Heart nor The Mind wouldn’t like that language. On an unknown day in February 2023, a pistol was aimed right at The Mind. The aiming man shook, his sight blurred, but not yet gone. The Heart, unable to aim properly due to his rising panic, shot, yet missed, barely grazing The Mind’s neck. The Mind, thinking logically and acting in self-defense, ripped The Heart’s eyes out, the kind of irony one might read in a bible story. The Soul, the ever so tired man he was, already half-deaf from the arguments and splits of his Mind and Heart, blurred the lines between good and evil, his morality severed, yet with the chaos embraced. The blur left a soft resonance of peace, the dissonance finding harmony amidst the melody in minor. Since that fateful day, or week, or possibly even month of entropy, the arguments have turned from violent and frightful, to a laughter-filled banter or sibling rivalry, even with a sharp disdain. It felt like a shot to the neck, quite literally, to go past anything that may hurt one. In the end, the Tridential Sovereignty will get its grip back together, eventually the melody in minor will morph and merge into a series of notes, all colliding at the same time, like smashing a keyboard with one’s foot. The Heart, The Mind and The Soul know this, unfortunately. They understand that they all will eventually recycle back into the arguing mess they are, the shooting pain gone and forgotten, blind to the soft remedy they had to their dissonant-like harmony. They have chosen to enjoy the entropy and the blur as they can, each third of man quite content with their current situation, especially the impending realization that it may not always be the same, that it will fluctuate with Chonny’s mind like the plants do spring and storm. Maybe that isn’t so horrible. Maybe the knowledge that the patchwork would be pulled from under their feet insinuates not a bad paranoia, but a need to cherish the short, peaceful moments.
