But the stupidity of the world around me changed that real quick.
When I was a child, I was always extremely curious. I never had much interest in people, but the world... the world was a wondrous place. It was so beautiful and so full of mystery. My parents thought I might be a little retarded at first because I never paid much attention to humans. I didn't speak my first words early, and I always had this big dumb, wide-eyed look on my face. I wasn't brain damaged, I was just in awe of this world. Humans kept getting in between me and it. No, I wasn't dumb, I just didn't give one single fuck about people.
I developed the habit very early of wondering why, but not vocally asking why. I believe this is the true meaning of "QUESTION EVERYTHING." I would see other dumb monkeys asking the bigger, yet equally dumb, monkeys why things were. At this point, I had already been asking myself these questions, and was starting to get a good idea of the answer. So I'd eavesdrop a bit, and everytime, I would hear the most inane bunch of horseshit. There was no way in fuck these answers were even remotely correct. Don't fucking tell children this garbage! But they did, and I shut out the world of people even more.
Grown-ups had the most ridiculous responses when I prompted them with a question. Either they would blatantly shoot me down with remarks like, "You're too young to be thinking about that." or "becuase it is." "Because it is" is no fucking way to answer any question ever! I would hear people give me answers like that and I would wish I was bigger so I could kick their fuckin ass. Or they would simply ignore me.
Early on I could already see that I was stuck in some big, dumb hell. If these were the creatures that populate and control the world, then I'm in for one shitty ride.
The first time I was introduced to religion, I thought it was a joke. Sitting in church, I'm trying so hard not to laugh as I thought to myself, "There's no fucking way you guys believe this shit. Come on, quit pulling my leg and tell me you're all kidding. That this is some elaborate joke to mess with us." When I realized it wasn't. I got scared. Very very scared.
Yes, it is true that I hate people. I will not deny that. But do you know why I hate them so much? It is because I fear them. I fear the big, dumb unconscious collective that rules my destiny. I fear the parents that bought me toys when I asked for tools and scientific equipment. I fear the authority figure with the laughable IQ. I fear the minds that accept blindly the information fed to them, and never once ask themselves why. I'm afraid, I'm sad, I'm alone, and I always will be.
I want to change things. I'm trying to change things. I'm trying to be patient with you. It can be difficult when you do not want to learn. The only quality in people I've ever loved is the desire to learn. I don't care how fucked up, behind, or slow you are. If you want to learn, I will teach you. And I did not say I will try to teach you, I said I WILL teach you. As long as you have the will to learn, I can teach you anything you want to know.
I get angry. I get very uncontrollably angry sometimes. All I wanted to do was learn and create, but I was not allowed to, so my desire to build was stifled. I became apathetic and full of hate. I'm irreversibly fucked. And if I had the chance, I'd burn this whole fucking world down.
It was Jeremy's fist day of school. First Grade, the long journey begins! He'd never been to a school before. He was a bit afraid, but his fear was overcome with excitement. New things! He loved new things! The previous weeks were full of shopping for all of these beautiful objects he'd always wanted: sleeves of paper, folders, pencils, a pencil sharpener, and a small case to keep it all together. These were his things. These were tools of the mind. These were powerful in the right hands.
Although during his math lesson that day, Jeremy kept getting frustrated. It was not because he didn't understand the material, it was just that he felt there was something missing at every step. It hurt his brain to think so simply. 1+1? What is one? If One is an apple, and I drop the apple, and it breaks, what are those pieces?! They can't be one. The whole apple was one! And one is the smallest number there is! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?! And why is it always +? Every problem is blank plus blank. What if I want to go the other way? How would I do that? Can I do that?
So Jeremy raised his hand when prompted, and asked his simple question, "We keep going one way, with the plus thing. What if I want to go back, the other way? What's the other way?" The teacher gave him a perplexed look and asked, "What do you mean? This is addition. There is no direction, silly boy." Jeremy thinks for a moment and replies, "What I mean is, what is the opposite of addition? We keep putting things together, isn't there a way to take them apart?" The teacher laughs, "Oh, you mean subtraction! No, we're not learning that yet. That is for later. Today, we are only learning addition." At this Jeremy can't help but say, "But I want to learn the other one, subtraction, too. This is school. You're supposed to teach me things in school. Teach me subtraction, just the basics, I can figure out the rest." The teacher has had enough of this. She gives him a hard look and says sternly, "No! Today we are learning addition and nothing else. Now keep your mouth shut if you don't have anything to say about addition!"
Tears welled up in the little boy's eyes, but he held them back, and tentatively raised his hand one more time. The teacher let out a great sigh, put her hands on her hips and asked him what he wanted now. He quietly let out his small question, "What's in between numbers?" At the utterance of these words, his face flushed red and he thought he might cry. Having put up with enough crap already from this snotty little shit, the teacher simply barked out, "Jeremy! You are not to speak again for the rest of the class!"
Jeremy stared down at his papers. He kept his hand folded neatly together under his desk, his legs tight together, and felt hatred taking root in his mind.
"Now I want all of you to come to the front of the room and sit indian style in front of me." Ordered the teacher, "I'm going to read a story to you."
The class gets up, shuffles forward, and sits cross-legged in a semi-circle in front of the teacher. All but Jeremy, who is sitting on his knees. The teacher was at her limit with this disobedient boy. "Jeremy!" she barks, "I told you to sit indian style!" He has no idea what the fuck she's talking about. He's sitting on the floor in the half-circle with all of the other kids. Why is she so pissed? "I said..." she yells louder, "to sit indian style! Don't sit on your knees like that! Sit like an indian!" Jeremy is just staring at her. How the hell is he supposed to know how indians sit? And he was sure there wasn't some mysterious force controlling them, rendering them incapable of sitting however they chose. So what is this madwoman yelling about?
The teacher kept staring at him, waiting for him to do something. He had no idea what was expected of him, else he would do it. "You do know how indians sit, don't you?" She yelled even louder this time.
Jeremy thought for a minute. He knew nothing about indians, and he was sitting there just like all the other kids.
Finally, it's his turn to raise his voice. He looks the old hag right in the eye and exclaims, "I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about!"