There seems, in my personal experience, to be an intolerable requirement for all human beings to establish, maintain, and praise the company of others. The majority, as individuals, have developed the idea that one may not find happiness within ones own company and must, therefore, join hands with strangers until they become brothers and share thoughtless assumptions to feel needed and, inevitably, accepted. The necessity for such kinship among people is understandable and, intrinsically, instinctual; however, more often than ever it seems one must denounce their ability to be an individual and, thus, embrace the idea of “belonging” and “being a part of” the group of socially acceptable men. They must forfeit a part of themselves, whether it be their interests and ideas or simply their awareness of themselves, and give over ownership of the individual. The “Outsider”, as it were, is truly alienated and frowned upon when he lacks the desire to join the group. Some call him anti-social, socially unacceptable, or, simply, depressed. The common assumption of one being alone being equal to one being lonely is more than a simple misunderstanding between sects of individual priorities, it is an unwillingness to allow the idea of the individual to fully develop within ones mind. There are men who are better off alone, better off without the ramblings and thoughtless perceptions of others insisting on what to care about and who to admire. Placing trust outside of oneself is handing the reins over to strangers, it’s absurd. It compels you further away from finding your own thought and your own ideals and forces you into a slavery of popular thought; the death of the freethinking mind.
There is a belief that creative minded individuals tend to be more reclusive. I will attest to that belief after witnessing what may come from a man when he is lost in his own thoughts. If that man were to, say, fall into the ranks of the unthinking and be persuaded to frequent social gatherings, he might lose, or simply overlook, that part of him that craves wild imaginings and multifaceted thoughts. He is, instead of creating, being formed into a man who is not a man. A man who has become a product of his environment, instead of his own existence.
When the Outsider is invited to spend an evening with acquaintances, he shudders. Not because he is embarrassed or is lacking social skills, but simply because he values his time alone more than the time spent accompanying others. In 1926, H.P. Lovecraft wrote in a letter that “The people of a place matter absolutely nothing to me except as components of the general landscape and scenery.” Due to the social standards set within our own time one who has the same view as Lovecraft will find it difficult and, at times, impossible to find his place in such a world. This can lead to a scenario where the man struggling to maintain a face within a faceless world falls out of both groups entirely, resulting in a loss of self. Roland Topor once wrote, “At what precise moment does an individual cease to be the person he – and everyone else – believes him to be?” This affirms the idea of forfeiting identity in the meaningless attempt of attaining one apart from the self. This is the idea of alienation of the “Outsider” brought about by those who are deemed acceptable. They believe in finding fault with one who would rather share his own company than theirs, they deem him to be a “wretched” and “pointless” human being not fit to belong on the stage they’ve built.
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“Martians – they were all Martians…They were strangers on this planet, but they refused to admit it. They played at being perfectly at home…He was no different…He belonged to their species, but for some unknown reason he had been banished from their company. They had no confidence in him. All they wanted from him was obedience to their incongruous rules and their ridiculous laws.”
- Trelkovsky in The Tenant
“I am not, as you will have observed, a man greatly enamored of his fellow human beings. I do not enter lightly into the foibles and whimsicalities of others, I do not suffer fools gladly, I seem able, in conversation, only to needle or be needled. My relationships, as a result, are few, and those few are tenuous, prickly sorts of arrangements, altogether lacking in the spontaneity and intimacy for which human beings, I’m told, have an instinctive need. I am aware of no such instincts in myself. But there is a type of dour and taciturn individual in whose company I can, I find, be at ease–men with strong, uncomplicated natures and no interest in chatter. Silent, stolid men.”
- Patrick McGrath, The Grotesque
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Currently Listening: Chroma Key – On The Page
