The Verdict of Being -- The Harshest of All Truths -- How To Handle Your Rejected Existence

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Navigating a World That Rejects My Existence

In my final conversation with Ms. Chen, my overarching antagonist, I asked: "I haven't done anything wrong, did I?" Her answer, brief and cryptic, was ironic: "You never have done anything wrong." And with that chilling pronouncement, I was cast away once more, abandoned by the world, and by her for the last time.

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Despite the supposed innocence of my actions, Ms. Chen's disdain was intense. And yet, her loath of me was not unique, for the social contract cares only for those who are relevant. For I was chronically fatigued for 5 years due to office work, but no one cares when I wasn't obliged to attend it (and thus have no legal reason to care). If I were far more relevant back then, and had the guts I had today, I would seek vengeance.

But the irrelevant are casted aside because the verdict of being is this: You exist in a certain way, therefore you're a dysfunction by default. And people are going to forever treat you like dirt, for your authenticity disrupts social order.

And that dysfunction of being can only be solved with death, which I refuse to do. I refuse to die just yet, not only just because I'm younger than you think, but also because the being of social order has no moral reason to lead to death by my own hands. I refuse to relent, over the repulsion towards my very existence. It seems that regardless of my actions, regardless of my intentions, my presence itself will cause aversion in those who are too gutless to accept me.

This pervasive rejection stings with helplessness, but beyond welfare I receive little help from others, for I refuse to be a victim, and need little emotional support. The echoes of Ms. Chen's words are also reflected in the online world, where negativity finds fertile ground simply because I exist the way I do. It's as if my being itself radiates some unseen, repulsive quality, triggering distance in certain people. As such, I actively choose to be in the shadows. Not because I victimize myself, but because I've no desire for others to be my victim. There is distance in honor for a reason.

The question that haunts me is why? Why does my existence cause such hostility? Is it something I control, some side of my being I can change? Or is it simply a cruel twist of fate, an unchangeable aspect of who I am that condemns me to permanent avoidance from others?

My theory is this: People have not the guts to handle me, for I am dead inside, and no longer care about emotions as genuinely as I did. I became a cruel and remorseless being. Too many people stood in my path. Too many people suffer from their own lack of foresight. In order to handle those whom one fails to understand, one must develop cognitive empathy. It's through the ability to understand the other side, that we can work towards a better world with less suffering. But since people fail to do it, they suffer, and will suffer.

And one needs not meddle with a man who sees ruthlessness as a virtue, when you can instead try to understand them. It's far better than any petty argument. The fact that some people tend to argue more than others due to certain reasons, matters not.

For I am too relentless to let anyone stand in my self-imposed way of workaholism. And I will see it through that my chronic work on Philosocom will be done in the best possible way I can make it be.

A Guide for the Unwanted and the Pursuit of Morality in a Morally Bankrupt World

The sting of rejection has become a familiar feature in my being. And rejection is pain, but it woven itself into my existence. Interpersonal existence, therefore, is never without pain. And to this day I am incapable of fully understanding people's desire for social company, when social company can cause so much misery, and especially for the unwanted-by-being.

Even before the specter of "Ms. Chen" loomed large, the world had a knack for turning its back, on me, thus showing me its true, apathetic colors. For I was almost killed in a public park, once, and no one bothered to ask how I am. It was then I knew, slowly, the irrelevance of my existence at large. And she had no problems reminding me, just that. I thus became Mr. Tomasio, an anti-villainous antagonist of humankind, who wants to do good and may donate to charity, but can torment those who stand in his way without remorse.

Forever I will have to dance between helping humanity with what I have to offer, and keeping its meddlesome behavior away from me. For I live to contribute, but I refuse cooperating with those who will care not if I'm to become a corpse, by accident or by effort.

This unwelcome dance with rejection has played out in the corners of V. R. Chat where strangers were repulsed by my authentic behavior, whether it was my chosen nickname, that wasn't offensive, but was used by them offensively.

It's a cruel irony, how this clings to some like a second skin. A world that shares out its affection with an uneven hand, leaving some, like social rejects, ostracized for sins they never committed. Other than being the way they are of course.

The unfairness, of course, is the notion that acceptance is a meritocracy, only to be earned through false identities, locally-proper manners, and carefully curated opinions, in the name of pleasing others for their validation. But philosophers are not people pleasers.

Each interaction, a component in a persona capable of becoming public, is constantly judged by an invisible jury, with the "jury" being another's thoughts. The more the performance pleases, the more the world smiles. The more it stumbles, the deeper the hole of isolation will be digged. But I deem it immoral to pretend, and I hate every second of it with repression. And repression itself has its own consequences. Society is sick for encouraging us to repress who we really are.

It's a chilling truth, this persistence of people's submission to repulsion, as some of us, like me, still try and choose success over personal happiness. The bullying, the shaming, the alienation – these are all normalized by a collective shrug, and therefore "okay". Either way, we must help ourselves first. For we, the ostracized, the misunderstood, are the casualties of a game we never chose to play. Should we not help ourselves, our condition can worsen.

My years-long tango with Ms. Chen, now a phantom in my past, have planted this truth onto my mind: Acceptance is not a prize to be won, for I do not deserve to show affection and caring to those, like psychopaths, who choose not to care about me, either way.

For in the face of an unwelcoming world, the only refuge lies in finding solace within ourselves, in realizing the transformative nature of solitude. in forging our own path, brick by brick, towards a future where acceptance is not a privilege, but a right. For the power of relevancy holds the ability to turn an outcast into a well-respected being in society.

Respect and warmth are not automatic entitlements; they must be earned through individual actions. "Chen" has the right to not like you, just as you have the right to detest her and the rejective behavior within humanity. Yet, within this bleak landscape, defiance can rise and turn us from victims to kingpins. You can choose to rise above, and use the cruel nature of reality to make yourself stronger. You can also seek to be more moral, by refusing to be as hostile as others were to you.

By that, you can end many personal cycles of bullying, harassment, even suicide encouragements. These are the slings and arrows shot at you for being too socially undesirable. But you don't have to learn from your tormentors to follow suit. In a theoretical world, rejection has the power to paint two portraits of the world, based on the verdict of being: A utopia for the "desired" and a desolate wasteland for the ostracized, breeding misanthropy and loneliness.

Should we have the guts to rebel against these inequalities, by accepting people more regardless of their verdict of being, we can inspire hope for others to do the same, thus leading to a more inclusive world. Since people can be accepted even if they are very different from the rest, we have the ability of forging a path of righteousness, even in the face of societal indifference and injustice. The path may be challenging, and the social scars are painful, but remember, the power to shape your own narrative lies within you. Choose wisely, and never let the darkness extinguish the light that burns within.

You now carry a greater understanding of "Chen's" injustice, but it doesn't have to crush you, should you refuse staying weak. Do not accept mercy so easily if you wish to become stronger

Let the flaws of social reality inform your path, fuel your quest for a higher moral ground. This world may be devoid of absolute retribution, offering loopholes for the unjust. But within each of us lies the power to choose, to rise above the darkness and illuminate our own corner of the world with kindness and compassion.

Seeking Serenity in a World That Doesn't Want Us For Who We Are

The world of superheroes, with their capes and righteous fury, pales in comparison to the real-life struggle against villains lurking in plain sight. Bullies, masked in anonymity, wield the weaponized right to expression to unleash the darkest corners of our nature. In this twisted reality, the only haven from the scars of antagonism seems to lie in the arms of solitude, a hermitage carved from the desire for greater serenity.

Severing the very flawed norms that bind us to each other, we only enable the very fabric of unnecessary conflict. No connection, no hostility. No audience, no performance of cruelty. But at what cost does this serenity come? Does it collide with the yearning for love, the very fuel that sustains much of our existence? At large, it does.

Do you understand now, the weight of my choice, the agonizing trade-off between peace in exchange for depriving ourselves of human connection? To seek solace in the shadows is to surrender the stage to the darkness, to surrender the fight for a better world. Yet, to remain involved, to weave myself back into society, is to risk being torn apart, thread by thread, by those who think it's smart to meddle with a man who only lives for his loved ones to not die themselves.

Many people can easily make me their scapegoat. But there is no serenity in victimhood. As such, like with relevancy, serenity is to be fought for, until you'll reach an extensive period where you'll be left alone, whether or not you'll contribute to society.

And despite all the unnecessary agony caused to me, I still want to be of service, as I refuse to overgeneralize. Within these people, greater peace might be found, as they will accept the verdict that is your being.

And some of them may even be thankful that your being is alive and not yet a corpse.