There was no definitive place in space-time when I left society. There was no definitive place in space-time when society left me. Both occurred gradually, over a number of years. When it was complete, however, my separation from The Society of Normals split the atoms of my psyche, and in a chain reaction of thoughts, feelings and events, the world – the social universe surrounding me – became foreign soil. Slowly and methodically, the tongued jargon with which I was familiar as a child became unrecognizable. The Society of Normals’ language was now unintelligible, a mishmash of nefarious under- and overtones, discordant hues unmatched with any colors I had previously encountered.
As much as I adored and cared about humanity, humans seemed to thwart my love for the species. Humans were base and vile creatures, evildoers who attacked others without thought, provocation or remorse. Human ugliness was the sole reality.
My distaste for humans spread faster than a gangrenous foot fungus. The vapid skin around my toes turned black, a sign of the necrotic feelings I harbored against these aliens. Those feelings climbed quickly — up my leg, into my gut and finally robbing my once-bleeding heart of its life-sustaining oxygen.
While humans were concretely evil, humanity was an abstraction, an ideal to which to aspire however unrealistic that vision was. Gravitating toward that ideal afforded me the luxury of understanding and accepting people’s shortcomings, possibly including my own.
My separation from society had been years in the making. With people, I felt apart; without them, I felt a sense of belonging. That is where I fit in.