Dangerous Imperfections

    I used to think that I wasn’t ready for the world, but maybe it was the world that wasn’t ready for me.  They couldn’t understand why an attractive man would refuse the system and play its games.  The pursuit of knowledge and the virtues of care and honesty were not reserved for men like me.  So, why have I rejected their preconceptions?  To me the answer is obvious; it’s a matter of substance.  The exterior is less important than the interior, and the glory of intellectual achievement is greater than the superficiality of appearances.  What lies beneath is infinitely more valuable than what lies above, because an idea can last for centuries, but a body cannot.  Men of skill are immortalized in the pages of history, not men of fashion. 
    Women, however, are the opposite.  Walk into a library and you will find thousands of books about men, walk into an art gallery and you will find thousands of paintings of women.  What men achieve with their minds, women achieve with their bodies.  We catch our prey with our skills, while they catch theirs with their beauty; it’s a mutual dynamic. [I don't mean to sound sexist; not every member of each sex is this way].
    Sometimes I am hated for this rare combination of generosity, intelligence, and beauty.  People won’t tell you they hate it, but deep down they do.  You can feel it in the way they avoid you, or by how easily they become intimidated by your supposed perfections.  Little do they know, all the strengths I possess are illusions. My intelligence causes me to overthink, connecting dots that aren't there, hurting my relationships. With the virtue of kindness, I have yielded my needs and desires to others, allowing them to take advantage of me. The price I pay for looking like a Greek god is an often-made assumption that I am arrogant or a player, which couldn’t be farther from the truth.
    So, I have chosen isolation.  I’ve hidden myself away from them, not because I am afraid, but because they can’t handle people like me.  The divine spark that lights up my aura is wrapped up in an armament of protection for my fellow man.  Because if I truly exercised my charisma, if I truly stole their women, and if I truly went headstrong through academia, I’d have caused more trouble than most people could manage. Somebody would have crucified me by now.