For a man of thought, and of deliberation. For a man of constraint and asceticism; of intelligence and intellectualism, even.
To face them.
For a man of autonomy, self-direction and singularity of character. A man of precision, order and logic.
It is discouraging. Sure, we nod and humor and accept the widespread and oft repeated notion during such bouts of discouragement:
It’s the way people are, the way of mankind. Can’t fight it, just accept it. You’ll never be happy, otherwise.
Sometimes this self-pacification hack staves off the wounds incurred during the battle with humanity and its unceasing spiral into crass depravity; actually, most of the time it does.
But there are also those days where the man of thought runs out of his supply of humor and permissiveness and finds he is direly affected by the vile tendrils of a society that will never accept him nor value his type.
And such a man, seeking a tolerable co-existence in this strange world molded by a strange sentient race, will often find he is immersed among others who, like all humanity, present the antithesis to his character, a humanity so resolute in the pursuit of intellectual and emotional debasement. And he realizes that the oppressive march of human stupidity, degradation, sloth and hedonism is an affront to his private dignity. In such a situation, the man of thought must live another day, wait for the fog to pass (for it will, it always does), and for a new day to dawn where humanity will once again resume being a mere encumbrance, not a curse.