your very existence…
seems to cause me undue irritation.
I’m feeling unusually misanthropic tonight. I usually feel misanthropic, but today it is definitely more pronounced than usual.
Misanthropy is a natural condition. It isn’t much of a stretch to despise a species that brings nothing to the planet it inhabits. A species that never ceases to outdo itself in vanity and sheer egotism. A species that gluts itself upon everything that it has no right to and denies what it truly needs. A species with the audacity to call itself a group of “higher beings” as though they are better than the animals they slaughter for food or the insects the crush simply because they were “gross.” A species that is willing to play God just to stroke their own overblown feeling of self-worth.
No, there is nothing unnatural about misanthropy.
The funny thing about misanthropists, though, is how they have the uncanny ability to remove themselves from the race they so detest. Or maybe it’s the aura of superiority they assume when dealing with those “pathetic humans.” “I hate humanity despite the fact I embody every single trait that I claim to loate. In fact, I am going to continue my ignorant little life completely oblivious to the fact that I am a raging hyocrite. I am better than them.” My modesty does not allow me to give myself any kind of exemption from the rule. I do not claim to be better than that which I abhor, nor do I even exempt myself from the dislike I hold for the race.
In fact, I’m probably one of the worst examples of humanity I’ve seen. Not in an emo I’m-a-horrible-person-and-feel-guilty-about-something-I-had-nothing-to-do-with-and-really-it-didn’t-affect-me-anyway kind of way, though. Most humans are ignorant of their ignorance. They are not aware of their boorish and somewhat savage behaviour. They do not acknowledge their sloth and gluttony. However, I am not ignorant of my own condition. Yet I do nothing to remedy it. This makes me worse than the average human. I have the opportunity to improve myself, to raise up above the constraints of my race, and yet I continue to wallow in my own shortcomings.
This, of course, doesn’t offend me nearly as much as it should. On some of my more self-righteous days it might irk me, but today is more of a glory-in-my-own-immorality kind of a day. Pity.