Is it within the realm of normalcy to possess intellectual acumen?
Having reflected on the many years I have spent on this world, I have come to the conclusion that my sagacity is, in many ways, a curse. I am doomed for the duration of my dreary existence to witness the tomfoolery of the myriad different varieties of beings (with their myriad of various defects, intellectual and otherwise) that I share this strange, blue orb with, and their stupidity has long since ceased to amuse me. I am wrestling now at this precise moment with the possibility of contributing my vast sums of philosophical experience to the other members of the species which I happen to lamentably be a part of, but the labyrinthine workings of my mind are beyond the mere scope of any paper or language known to man to be properly conveyed and, even were it a possibility that the appropriate medium existed, I doubt seriously that my fellow human apes would be astute enough to comprehend my works. I do indeed at such moments reflect upon my existence and feel quite alone; I do not know if ever a man has felt quite as isolated as I, being that isolation seems to be the curse (and yet, the nourishment) of intelligence.