The Epic of the Eternal Outsider

Art by Ms. Alex Mos

(Philosocom's Directory on Uniqueness)

(Philosocom's Subcategory Directory on Writing)

In every society the artist or writer remains an outsider -- Simone De Beauvoir

I stand alone as the eternal outsider,

My life is a constant reminder,

Of an elementary incompatibility,

With the rest of human society.

I am sane and filled with sobriety,

But am too unique to partake within normality.

Forever fighting with inner demons,

Darkness, emptiness and despair,

And I dare grow a pair,

To voice my uniqueness for all to listen dare.

I saved people, hard to conceive,

Lead an organization, that I achieve,

But beneath all the darkness,

Lies a truly good person free from madness,

I am not a social creature,

Solitude is an eternal feature.

I assure you I am not friendly,

Want to contribute and be left alone, that's a steady,

Principle of a man who's always ready,

To write lots and be left a mystery,

Life has mainly been misery.

I don't really like people,

I intimidate easily for I am a weirdo,

Anti-social man who just want to contribute,

And be left alone, that's the root,

Of all my entire being,

A being that is hardly seen,

For it is hard for one to conceive,

The relentless productivity of a writer,

Who's for meaning he is a fighter,

In isolation I build an empire,

A legacy that will carry on the fire,

Of a solitary entity,

Who experiences the world as his adversary,

For with the truth, I scare away,

Those who want to be part of my day.

At three I scared pigeons.

At adulthood I scare people.

I never managed to fit in,

For I am cursed to struggle with the demons within,

That dare to consume my being,

Ever since I saved late granny,

From a harakiri attempt.

I perceive this world with contempt.

I just wish to help,

And then be left alone forever,

In one way or another on my own.

I was always a misfit,

Burned more than created bridges,

So articles I can write in legions,

And dedicate my entire life to writing,

While being left alone I'm abiding.

For I stand as an eternal outsider,

A very much solitary being,

Who's for a better world wants to sing,

Its rectification wishes to bring,

Using the help of his underlings.

In solitude I forever dwell,

For in solitude, I am very well,

Other people are as hell,

As Sarte would state,

Somehow, I have a mate,

Somehow it wasn't too late.

Somehow her I don't intimidate,

She is very brave,

To stay where people left away,

I am too much of a dysfunction,

Yet got me a woman with attraction.

I want to be left alone,

With her and on my own.

For me the world is not to be enjoyed,

And company of most I choose to avoid,

As I fulfil an inner void,

By writing articles, yet I am still annoyed,

By all the free time I have,

And partaking in society I can't.

Not having to work I'm glad,

Otherwise, I'd turn mad,

With all the fatigue,

I don't want to cause intrigue,

I just want to live in serenity,

Away from most of humanity,

Up my ivory tower,

While still having some power.

My parents tried to fit me in,

Only to realize I always lean,

To the company of one's own,

To be mainly alone.

I am like a monster,

Easily intimidate without a bother,

Make most people stay away,

While mainly alone spend my day.

In isolation my life is set,

With myself and my quirky mate.

Solitude is my destiny and fate.

I can't fit in it's too late.

I thus stand as an outsider,

In the corner like a huge spider,

Too weird to partake,

In society's interwoven fate.

With writing I satiate,

My need to contribute,

Because even though I'm a solitaire,

I still, to a degree care.

And want to help with all my articles,

Hand them for free, like free popsicles.

Wisdom is meant to be shared for free,

So people can better see,

What life is all about,

I have chosen a less travelled route.

I am not after money,

I survive well in my own country.

The misery of war I don't catch,

For I was always unattached,

From the rest of society,

In solitude I preserve my sanity.

As I contribute and then left alone,

Forever in a way on my own.

I don't want any journalist,

Or any other kind of specialist.

I'm doing fine as an eternal outsider.

Hides in shadows like an all-nighter.

Helping my kingdom makes me lighter,

Defeats away the darkness like a soul fighter.

Can't handle two timers,

Who are scared away like pigeons,

And can't handle honesty,

In this fake society,

Where you have to put on a mask,

And your true self never reveal as a task.

Why should I do that I ask?

My honesty is too repelling.

Solitude is just way too compelling,

Than to spend time with people,

Who fly away like seagulls,

Easily by the movement,

Of my unflinching honesty,

Which I reveal with no modesty.

Most people just cannot bear,

The things I easily dared.

From being fully myself,

To saving people in heroic act.

I am too unique, that's a fact,

I always have to carry as a task.

I can't bear wearing a mask,

And go around dishonest,

I have truths within,

Whose expression I view not as a sin,

But as a basic right,

Whose existence I fight.

In my tiny corner,

Of a website managed by a loner.

My difficulties I don't expect you to be a moaner,

For society I am a rebel, a loather.

I stand as an eternal outsider,

Speaker of truths too hard to contain,

And a website which I loyally maintain.

Most connections I have maimed,

To continue being a writer,

An anti-social fighter.

Whose world only made him darker.

The darkness I defeated,

But my thirst for meaning I haven't seethed.

It is an ongoing journey,

Consistent, active and lonely.

I thus write and write thoroughly,

Very well, never poorly.

With hard work I can surely,

Make a difference for long, not shortly.

The emptiness is always part of me,

But with my work I temporarily set it free,

Produce articles for all to read,

And be contributed from my deeds,

As I stay from afar,

Travel the web like a virtual car.

With my productivity few can be on par,

Disconnected and lay low,

That is the essence of Mr. Tomasio,

Who wrote much and gave the voice,

Of many to express themselves on choice,

On my esoteric, massive platform,

I mastered writing, this art form,

Beginning from fifteen,

I grew to be healthy and lean.

Yet I am forever intimidating,

Connections easily eliminating.

I am too incompatible,

Neurodivergent who made the impossible,

Living independently despite all odds,

But is too eccentric and odd,

To be part of anything,

I therefore became a king,

Of my own little monarchy,

I manage and run this empire,

With everlasting passionate fire.

In solitude my life is set,

With myself and my mate,

Recovered from most of my ailments,

By the power of my own testament.

For most people it is hard to make a list,

As to why I even exist,

Yet in solitude I consist,

My uniqueness I persist.

As an eternal outsider.

Never even a part timer,

Most of life was harder,

But in solitude I'm finer.

A productive lifelong writer,

Who has much to say,

With his unique perspective,

And articles variated, not selective.

Solitude forever shall be my fate,

Any more togetherness is too late,

For most connections have been burnt,

And those who made me dark have been hurt.

For I am in no way social,

Yet my articles stand insightful and vocal,

I don't know what would be the total,

Of the amount of articles in life's that's mortal.

I'll just have to keep at it,

As I write drink and eat,

An eternal misfit,

Who tries making sure he is fit.

For I want to live long,

Live as long as this song,

To continue practicing philosophy,

Whether or not there'll be a matrimony.

Solitude is my gilded cage,

And my antisocial nature will never change.

I am just built too different,

Yet contributing a legacy is my mission.

To set me free from the gnawing emptiness,

Despair, unfulfillment and darkness,

While I'm doing this for you and me,

I have a special need,

To constantly bring meaning,

To myself and to the world,

It feels like a justification,

For my lifelong continuation.

That's why I write so much,

Typing the keyboard with such lust.

I feel that contribute I must,

Before I turn to dust.

But even though I'm still young,

I have a deep need,

To be remembered,

And articles to be read, not dismembered.

Hopefully this legacy will last,

For at least a hundred years.

And for that one must be alone,

And carve an empire on his own.

Society is but a distraction,

An unwanted, burdensome attraction.

That wasted away time that could've instead,

Be spent on my passion.

Hopefully this would last,

And hopefully I won't give up,

Continue forging I must,

According to the fire of my heart.

A lifelong builder,

And an anti-social sinner.

A life of work is what I see,

And work from emptiness shall set me free.

From the demons which I bravely resist.

I must continue to consist,

In hardship and in fatigue.

That's the only way in which,

True satisfaction I shall reach!

It is no walk on the beach,

And it prevents me from being,

A parasitic leech,

Who does nothing all day,

That fate I cannot proudly say,

So that fate I avoid,

And fight, instead, against the void.

Which keeps returning,

No matter how many articles I've put to learning,

It is a tragic fate,

An empire builder that fights with no haste,

Against his inner demonic creatures,

That consuming him are trying to be a feature.

But I fight and I fight,

Bravely, for the satisfaction that is right!

I therefore must keep and write,

Massive wisdom publishes, shed a light.

Before I shall eventually perish,

Inevitably, into death's eternal night.

I then shall continue with all my might,

Until I'll finally feel productive,

Like I finally doing something,

And not just be nothing.

I have a need to leave in impact,

Regardless of the fact I don't have a tact,

And many social skills I lack,

To the rush of productivity I have a knack,

To it I always want to keep coming back.

It keeps away the demonic forces,

Drives away fast from them like a Porsche,

Until the gas runs out,

And they come back, all about!

I must keep resisting,

With solitude and discipline,

To not let the demons within,

Consume me with their ill mean,

I must keep fighting,

And keep striking like lighting,

It's how my mind keeps purified,

From demons that seek me to finalize.

I am rarely satisfied,

Only after a work I complete and abide.

The long-term satisfaction keeps in,

And then I am, from their curse, temporarily free!