Everyone seems to write passionate, moving article about their eating disorder, or a dying family member, or abuse, or fear.
Maybe that's why it's so hard for me to write a passionate, moving article - I don't have an eating disorder, a dying family member, I am not abused, and I do not struggle with fear. These are things people can relate to, things people understand and can sympathize with.
But being a genius? Don't tell me people can relate to that.
It's a different experience, to be sure. I know because when I try and tell people my joys and woes about the mind I have, they don't understand. Sometimes I feel very alone.
There are many wonderful things about being what most people say is "genius," I admit, and there's no way I complain about those. I see things in my mind that most other people could never even dream of. I see time itself, I see how all that is physical is sustained by the conceptual, I see beauty in ways that no one else can. I live in a world of colors and vibrant imagination, a gorgeous landscape of an ocean of music and math and sunset.
My mind works far more quickly than others do. I can memorize speeches in record time, I crave knowledge, and when working in a team I see solutions long before anyone else does.
I'm not saying I'm better than others. I know I'm not; I was just born with a different sort of mind. But it grieves me that no one else can experience what I can, that no one else understands what I talk about. It often requires me to abandon what I consider regular intellectual activity in order to function on their level.
This leads us into the dark side of being a genius. From my perspective, everyone else is, well, to put it simply . . . dumb. I feel like I'm living in a world inhabited by incompetent idiots. Now, I do realize that they have things I don't have - socialization skills, emotions, the ability to support and care for each other, and I realize that having a mind like mine is not necessary for a happy life.
But just as they are better than me in some areas, I am better than them in the area of reasoning. I know I am, and I often experience hostility and resentment when I act like it. Perhaps it is my fault, yes; perhaps I am too arrogant, perhaps I rely too much on my knowledge, but nevertheless it is a monster that claws through at times. Sometimes I will get irritated and burst out - "No, no, what are you thinking? That's no way to do it!" Sometimes (okay, fine, most of the time) I will ignore a team leader because I know I'm smarter than he is. Sometimes I fight my parents because they want me to do something I consider to be impractical, inefficient, or illogical. You think you have it bad with your parents? Imagine what it's like being ordered about with people who, compared to you, are on the mental level of children.
I trust myself more than I trust anyone else, because in my world, everyone else is idiotic. They do not live in my world, they cannot feel the beauty, they cannot see the sunset.
But this is something that can be fought. When I am in a good mood I am more agreeable and more submissive than when I wish to tear someone limb from limb. Through sheer will of effort, through experience, through knowledge I can come to trust others just as I do myself. It is a natural flaw within myself, one that I can repair.
Yet there is another aspect that lies not within myself, but instead the very nature of being a "genius."
It is a particular loneliness that comes about due to the fact that my kind is exceedingly rare. Sometimes I experience something incredible, something that only be seen by one with a grasp on things so far advanced there are no human words to describe it. It is the most wonderful, awe-inspiring feeling you can imagine, and more than anything I wish to share it with someone who understands, to have someone, anyone, who has a mind that can reach the stars. But there is no one. I am not one easily prone to emotion, but nevertheless that fact hits me hard at the worst of times.
There have been times where I think I'm going insane. Knowledge is a beautiful thing, but it is also bitter; the more you have, the more you are overwhelmed by how much there is to know - sometimes to the extent of pain. Think of it like the cheesy line from Spiderman: "With great power, comes great responsibility." With my gift, comes a great burden. It may sound a self pitying and idiotic thing to say, that I have too much of a good thing, that I don't deserve to complain about it. Perhaps I don't. It's a wonderful advantage, yes, and I can do great things with it. I understand that. But because of that people don't expect me to complain. They don't understand the disadvantages of what I am, so I am met with little sympathy when I express my woes.
I see relationships that other people have, and I envy them. They understand every minute aspect about each other, they can come talk to each other about anything. They have the same minds, the same joys, the same pains.
I can relate to them, yes, but not as much as they can with each other. I want someone who knows what I feel, who suffers what I suffer. For you, you simply have to look outside to see someone like you. It is easy. For that I envy you.
But for now, I feel like the only adult in a world of children. They satisfy me to an extent, yes, but sometimes there is nothing more that I crave for than the company of another adult.
A mind is a beautiful thing, but I don't want to watch the sunset alone.
-Anonymous
