Intelligent Sadness

I solved Riemann's Hypothesis.

I solved the mystery of life.

I solved Uranus' Tilt.

I solved the mystery of our life.

I solved what consciousness is.

I solved the cycle of life and death.

Self-taught since the age of 8.

Death on my hands at the age of 10.

Guided my friends and my loved ones at the age of 16.

Made enemies out of those who did not have the patience to know me. Made friends out of those who did.

Over time as I grew at cunning rates, slowly my friends cut ties, not because I lied to them and used them, not because they were moving - no, they severed our connection because - I quote - "It's cool and all that you're not like anyone else in this world, but I hate it when you constantly remind me of it."

At the age of 18, I was a wise man in a childish world. Speaking to people became a dangerous act. My words took control of people's will; they would lash out at me when I joked around. I could take control over an entire family. I almost destroyed a family unbeknownst to my potential. It was not what I wanted. They revered my confidence and wisdom. When I behaved like a young man, they took offense to it. They looked up to me with unrelenting dependence - I simply was not free to be young and innocent; I was chained against my will from being human. People took it upon themselves to blame me and transfer all responsibilities unto me. I was their hero, much like the hero of the stories written. I do good; I am treated with love and respect. I make a mistake; I am treated with contempt and hate. This power from knowledge gave me freedom over everything, except myself. I was a victim to chronic insomnia and night terrors.

-I was forced to live the perfect role-model, when I knew it wasn't right. I changed since then. I swore an oath to let others pick themselves up. It was not my moral duty to fix those who lived their lives vicariously through my steed. I did what I should have done long ago - I made it easy for people to hate me. I wanted to love, but intellect and ignorance are the brothers of virtue and vice... When I did not react emotionally to the death of a pet or a loved one, people would see me as a monster. Despite that, this knowledge I have understood the death on a level of analysis that was beyond their emotional cues. I couldn't react to anything. Everything to me was real. When I wanted to cry, I cried. I did not cry just because everyone else did.-

Since then, I've sat in the darkness learning how to control this knowledge. I have a choice to either play stupid so people have a chance to show what they can do, or be honest with myself and others earning myself a one-way ticket to being socially exiled. To choose if telling people how it is being right or wrong, or keeping people guessing being right or wrong. Leaving them in a dark in bliss, or shedding light in chaos. Hurting them a little bit, saving them from a life time of hurt. Not hurting them, but inevitably hurting them for a life time. People's need to play god makes it so hard for me to play human. I want to be human. I can't rest - I am always moving and evolving. People are always wanting to rest - to settle. I want to be wrong - people want to be right. I let people speak. People speak over me. The moment I give people a chance to prove themselves, they lose that privilege when they attempt to walk over me. I give people the spotlight; what do they do with it? They back-stab me with it. When you give people no room to breathe, they are better off. People today simply use that room to drum up excuses and lies - pressure breaks away their fake parts and shows you their real parts.

After all of this, it's not even why I am sad.

A friend of mine is leaving for an entire year. Trying to make the best of the last hours truly reminded me of who I am on the inside. I can't fake emotion. I can't fake reaction. I did not know what to say. I was humble and patient with my words and my actions. We watched videos of throwing cards. I tried to be there for him, so I followed to the backyard. We threw cards at 5A.M in the morning to see who can throw it the farthest. Him and I threw one of our cards the furthest; we also threw it as the same distance, his slightly further. Seeing those cards sitting next to each other really hit me hard personally. It brought me great sadness remembering that being human to me was a stage while being human to others was an everyday event. They put no effort in being human, while I put every fiber of my being to stand by my friend that night after depriving myself of sleep and having acid reflux tearing up my system. I kept trying to keep back the tears from swelling up and the blank trains of thought from consuming me and my need to let my friend know that I was there - in my own intellectual way. My own intellectual sadness. It was a feeling I knew I was going to experience at some time or another. It was an unfortunate night because hours before that, two dogs were hit by a speeding car out on the street. Too many things happening at once. I couldn't even cry about the dogs. I was just intellectually sad. My body tensed up like a human reaction, but I understood that things happen. Nothing will bring back those dogs. I could smell the blood from the computer room. I am so emotionally receptive and so sympathetic regardless of showing no reaction and emotion. My body really takes a number while people don't seem to be all that affected by their crying. I feel like I am holding back a tsunami, while people are dancing in the rain in sadness. It just pains me to see that people take emotions so easily, while showing them, but I take emotions difficultly, while not showing them because my body and my brain intellectually is showing them in analysis and realization. Philosophically, I am crying through thinking.

Looking back at last night, my heart quivers and my words flow with arrows shooting from the heavens of my subconscious woes. I did what I could to give that friend of mine all of my human. But deep down, it's the reality behind it all. While an average person is crying about the death of a loved one - the genius is crying inside about the death of his own human connection.

This world makes the genius feel worthless. As I sit here, there's no amount of my studies and findings that could ever fill this void I am cursed with along with other geniuses. Geniuses know that every ounce of their love and their humanity lies in something that simply isn't compatible with emotions and reactions - truth. In the end, our sorrow is really our own and geniuses know this. I couldn't explain to my friend at such a difficult moment in our lives that I couldn't cry or feel sad that they were leaving - I was crying on the inside because I couldn't be true to them without being true to myself. My sadness was intellectual. This madness was emotional. The two cannot go together, and so as I watched sound break between the lines of reality, I was forced to be silent.

I am going to miss my friend dearly. But I miss being human more than that. This is why being intelligent and honest in this world is the bane of your humanity - people expect you to go with it, to lie to pretend everything is okay with fake smiles.

I can't do it.

I'm sorry.