An insight into the personal experience of intelligence
| When I was a child, my mom told me that I had a gift from God. It revealed itself in the form of my intelligence. A few years later, I was fascinated by my talents. I thought I possessed powers that others could not comprehend. Now, as an adult, I realize how idiotic of an idea that was. I now understand the true nature of the inner workings of my brain. Intelligence is not a gift, nor supernatural, it is a curse. |
Intelligence is seeing the world for what it is, its beauties, and blunders. There is no lens to my eyes, and I resent that. I cannot be blinded by happy illusions anymore. I learned the loneliness of my being long ago.
From the moment I was born, no, before birth, I was destined for a life of solitude. I pushed friends out of my life to seek the source of my unhappiness. Somewhere along the lines, I lost something but did not know what it was. It took many months of study into various fields, experimentation, and many nights of frustration before I discovered the answer. Knowing the answer hurt more than ignorance. Something was missing, love.
Love is the one thing I could not give myself nor receive from others. To be loved is to be known, and no one can know what they don’t understand. My mind is a labyrinth that I also get lost in and fear I may never find my way out.
A little girl once called me a robot, the worst name I have been called. A robot is a being of no emotion, with no need for friendship, happiness, or love. To the world, I'm a functioning machine. One day I will be used up like a battery, thrown away, and replaced by a newer model.
On the outside may be a cold metal shell but inside, lies an old, wretched soul. I am not a robot. I am human, alive, breathing, thinking, and crying. As a human, I am invasive species feeding on wildlife who are a part of a cohesive ecosystem. I tried to be kind to all creatures and fought the dark for others with candles of wisdom.
If knowledge is power, then those who seek it are power-hungry. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, so it must be so, that knowledgeable people are corrupt. Wisdom is wicked, so are the people that possess it. Dark secrets are locked in my mind like monsters scratching away at the walls to dig their way out. I was born cursed, out of instinct, I sought secrets like a moth to fire.
It is foolish to think of fire as something that only destroys. It cleanses forests of dead matter and carves a path for new plants to grow. Flames can close wounds, and if controlled, can heat people who would otherwise die to the forces of nature. Let the fire rage and consume my body. From my ashes, new life will emerge like a phoenix. May it fly higher than anything I could build, or farther than I could ever see. May that phoenix fly faster than I could run so that I can never catch it.