I wrote this a few months ago when angered and annoyed by virtually everyone with whom I had come into contact. My reason for writing this was to honestly capture a self-portrait of my internal nature, as best as I could describe myself as I feel and experience life internally. For the most part, I was pleased with it, even if it eventually leads into angst and frustration. But I often feel this way anyway. Hopefully you guys enjoy it, or perhaps relate to some of it, or just find it interesting. Here it goes...
I am, above all else, a thinker. I am largely abstracted, theoretical, and analytical. Nothing enters my mind without immediate scrutiny, and nothing leaves it without a magnificent wake of terribly thorough musing. All data and information is instantaneously synthesized, filtered and processed into place, amongst all of the various internal categories of content which my mind has structured into a lofty mental palace of very organized and ordered material: as a vast library of numerous isles, with shelves stocked high — with this idea, or that theory, or some other random musing. And logic is ultimately the headmaster of this magnificent collection of material, having the final say-so on what stays and what goes, what is eligible for inclusion and what shall be omitted, discarded, or saved for another day.
Often times, I'm not very aware of what's going on around me, but instead lost in a world of internal fantasy, daydreaming, and heavy imaginative rumination. Concepts seem to have a world of their own and I am frequently deeply submerged in the critical evaluation of various often times conflicting ideas, arguments, viewpoints, and positions. Understanding is my greatest and highest goal, and as such anything however slightly incongruous must be tackled and forced to submit to some coherent picture of things, where I can safely feel at ease, having boiled a giant problem down to a few basic principles or a grand conclusion of absolute conceptual harmony.
For me, the world is here to be understood, as much as possible. As such, the typical ways of the average 'man' tend to leave me quite dumbfounded and bewildered, for there is much in the nature of humanity which does not allow for conceptual harmony. Thus, I'm usually detached from everyone else, or 'the herd,' as they are called. I am a loner in daily life, if not an outright hermit, and it would suffice to say that a cave or mountain is probably more suitable for me, than any general social region. I am that sagacious philosopher of antiquity, such as Diogenes, who walks the streets without restraint, eternally skeptical and cynical towards all the artificial constructions of humanity, but with an interest in how they can be revised, perfected, and ultimately improved. I am both interested and disinterested in general modern human life in an indirect manner, for I can never truly feel at one with the hoi polloi, or anyone mindlessly compliant with the regular social order, or the status quo. Ideally, I would be cloaked and hooded with a beard, were modern society less superficial, for that ancient clothing would probably suit me best. I utterly disapprove of modern attire. Thus, I stand at a distance, away from the rest of you, while constantly judging and scrutinizing your ways. You are the objects of my obsession; the subjects of my study. For me, life is nothing more than a social zoo, with pretty animals here and there to be analyzed, studied, and understood. I think. I think about humanity. I think about the world. I think to understand. And I think to feel alive. To me, that's the greatest freedom a human being can have, and I enjoy every minute of free thought and philosophical musing.
In the end, I may less interested in daily social life. I may be entirely impractical. I may be timid and shy in the presence of strangers; I may even feel anxiety in many social situations, while feeling out of place in a crowd. I may not be like the rest of you, and I've come to accept that. And thus, fame... wealth... prestige... luxury... status: these are all artificial constructions with superficial value of which I personally have no need or desire. I am the social outcast, always seeking a bit more wisdom through the marvelous power of thought and reasoning. Call me a rebel. Call me a daydreamer. Call me a freak. Call me 'weird.' Call me useless and self-absorbed. Call me unmindful. I would be called all of these things, and more, so long as I can sleep at the end of the day knowing I have lived my life honestly by my true nature, without dishonesty or a hint of foolish slavery, or typical illusions. I love to wonder and I am as curious as a child, and in many ways, I am childlike in my demeanor. This is because I have not lost my sense of willingness to take life as it is — for what it really is or may be — rather than for granted. I'm eternally philosophical and I wish not to conform. I wish not to accept tradition and live my life as some social automaton. I want freedom. And if in life people cannot be free and live a life of philosophical freedom, then life simply isn't worth the torturous endurance. And as such, life for a true thinker is only ever a giant prison sentence — constantly forced to conform and obey, to submit and comply (usually with that which is not intelligent in the slightest, caused and invented by lesser men wither smaller minds).
And so I leave off with a few words from William Blake:
I must create my own system or become enslaved by another man's