You’ve never even lived in the world. You can’t do anything normal people can do. All the ordinary things – that you despise. You despise us all. You hate ordinary life. You hate ordinary things. You have absolute contempt for everyone in the world. All the civilians. People like me.
And you’re so modest about yourself. You call yourself wretched and stupid, but you don’t mean it. Wretched in relation to who: the philosophical gods? Stupid in relation to the writers of the greatest philosophical books ever written?
That’s who you are, philosopher: an absolute snob.
Because nothing means anything compared to the only thing you value. Next to the only thing you venerate.
You want something better than the world. Truer than the world.
That’s what philosophy is: a veneration of what has nothing to do with this world.
You want to venerate. You want to bow down to something. So it has to be Thought, capital T. It has to be Philosophy, capital P. It has to be something beyond this world.
That’s why you hate yourself so much.
Work in Progress 