by Tor Matson
It’s really, really lonely being very smart.
It’s not fun.
It’s not glamorous.
It’s fucking painful.
And if you’re not only smart but also compassionate, life on Earth at this point in history will be pretty hellish.
You see what’s wrong, you see how to make it better, you want to make it better, but the big problem is that you can’t.
Stupid people say your ideas are stupid, because they just don’t understand them.
Nobody really gets you, no matter how hard they try.
You can’t even fully explain a complex idea before most people lose interest.
You can’t be honest most of the time, with most people, if you also want to be sensitive to their feelings.
People often feel threatened by you, and easily turn defensive.
You can see how to make everything ten times better with just simple modifications, but you don’t have the power to get it done.
I’ll say that’s my saddest thing, ever.
I wouldn’t wish a really high IQ on anyone.
The place to be is slightly above average.
Being really smart is really hard.
No matter what you achieve, you can see in excruciating detail how you could have done it better.
How helplessly inadequate you are.
