a constellation of stars !

There is a rene descartes living in your head and you must hit him with a shovel. unless you litterally have a descartes factive in which case talking to him is probably better.

Nothing exists in the world or the self exclusively, and the so-called boundaries between them are loose and defined at best by agency. nothing can happen within (endo) without the influence of what happens without (exo) and in turn, what happens without is shaped by what is happening within. it is a dance with inseprable, entangled partners, and to claim that Anything is solely and exlusivley responsible for a piece's lifeblood is truly absurd.

so too it goes for "traumagenic". what the fuck is trauma anyway? can you actually put in a box what makes a wound hurt? an exploration of the world shows there are those killed by papercuts and those unwounded by beheading alike, and so it is not the quality of the wound, clearly. everything is traumatic and nothing is traumatic. trauma is what you call pain that doesn't go away, regardless of where it comes from and what's needed to salve it. otherwise, the world is an ongoing trauma, for it is at all times wounding us and salving us in different ways from all directions.

the truth is, every piece, every self, has a little bit of every flavour of the world within it. certantly, one may dominate enough that it's convenient shorthand to call it out, but it's never the whole picture. in every sorrow there is joy, and in every joy there is sorrow. every alter is traumagenic. every alter is endogenic. this is all a futile attempt to nail the tide to the shoreline.