The Plight of a Genius
Jai Bakshi
Theoretical Physicist
My delusions begin and end spontaneously. Yet, the self-aggrandizing mania that clouds my brain feels permanent. Everything I achieve only fuels the fire of grandeur that propels me to achieve more. Living a life that can be defined purely quantitatively has left me feeling inhuman. Often, I make facetious remarks about being superior to everyone around me in search of relief. The light catharsis only gets me through normal waking hours. When the dust settles and my external validators sleep, I wonder if there even is a real human being left underneath my masks of success.
I have been drowning since birth. Prodigies are not afforded the luxury of breathing. I would have traded a millisecond of unconditional air for any type of pearl adorned crown that came with being the best. Anything that could have been measured became one facet in a seemingly infinite list; expectations of performance, expectations of behavior and even expectations of appearance. I signed this irrevocable contract the day I was deemed gifted. As I became accustomed to over-achieving, my cardinal sin grew proportionately. My rationality however, continued to grant me a pervasive paranoia about labelling myself a genius. How would I prove such a claim? Who wouldn’t instantly conflate my confidence with delusion? Will I be instantly dismissed and loathed by more traditional academicians for who I am? Who am I?
I am a genius. With or without applause, I am a genius. From time to time, I look up in perfect silence at the stars. I am cursed with the knowledge of an apparatus that can strip them of their excess. I am cursed with the inertia of focusing my talents for selfish gain instead of pursuing a doctorate in quantum mechanics. I am cursed with a neutron star’s weight worth of expectations sitting perpetually on my shoulders. My curses are insurmountable, my gifts are many and my equals are none.
