'enry the 'ermit

He really had no idea what motivated people. They were a complete mystery to him. So many of the things they did seemed so irrational. The things they would covet, or hold dear seemed like such a waste to him. Even the things he did agree with, they held in such a was as to make their perspective seem so skewed in comparison to anything he could relate to.

He realized that they had never had things torn down to nothing, never had done anything more than juggle what life threw at them. They didn't seem to reflect on their time, their actions or much of anything. What they did take in seemed almost forgotten by the next day. He remembered some reading he did earlier that day, that the emotional rollercoaster that people put themselves on reduced their awareness overall, while he doubted the rest of that article, that made sense.

He took a long range view of things, weighing from moment to moment decisions that wouldn't bear fruit for years, if ever. His goals didn't seem to have any immediate substance to them. He really couldn't think of anything he wanted to accomplish in the next ten years – it would take at least the next thirty to even get started on the most basic of his ideas realized.

Anything that took less time that that would likely be destroyed, he figured. He wasn't entirely happy with the network of relationships he had at the moment, but nothing short of a cataclysm seemed to be able to change that outlook. He grew tired of faking common ground with people he really only barely spent time with. Especially people who were so stuck in a unchanging perspective.

His mind had been through such shock and upheaval that the trials of the everyday were just a pitiful scrape against the already hollowed out blast crater that was his life, or what was left of it. He couldn't relate to people that got into hysterics about every little crisis that appeared, nor did he want to. He didn't feel that they would add to his life, rather they would subtract. Their pains and worries would become yet more obstacles to him, seeing as they never asked for his perspective.

Maybe it was conceited to think he had the answers, but any trial he could think up, he had a solution for. Most of the time the answer called for a drastic change, but that was, in his mind, the main criteria for a solution.

Like it or not, though, he was a hermit and could only organize his own life. The variations and obstacles in a more social life were totally unfamiliar to him, and he saw no reason to take up that path.