Rare Person Syndrome
I am not an anti-social person. That being said, I am not a fan of most crowded social functions. In this regard, I am sort of like a mythological creature. Seeing me at a party is a lot like seeing a unicorn in the forest or a monster in the lake; it just doesn’t happen enough for people to believe it is true.
While this characteristic might lead me to spend much of my time alone, it is also one of many traits that can make a person cool. Uncommon things are far more interesting than what we expect to see every day, even if they are not always as well liked. Or even liked at all.
Like most things in life, the rare-person condition relates to Pokemon. In the case of the trading card game, the most valuable cards were never the ones you could find in every deck. The best cards were the least seen. Of course, when speaking of social gatherings this comparison is a double-edged sword. I’m not sure if people like someone they see all the time more than someone they don’t, but I try not to let this bother me. As far as I’m concerned, it is a trait that doesn’t need to be changed. Why would you want to be a Geodude when you are already a Charizard?
When you are a rare person, people will notice when you are there. On the other hand, they probably won’t notice when you are not. This can lead me to sad thoughts. Hiding in my lair, wondering if people miss me, and coming to the conclusion that they probably don’t. But I have to keep in mind that I don’t really care. I’ve got better things to do, like eating ice cream and watching TV and staring at the infinite sky from the solitude of a hammock. Three things that are far more satisfying than any party I’ve been to.
Human beings are by far the most dangerous things on the planet. Why would I want to spend a prolonged amount of time in a room full of them? Then again, Volcanoes are only slightly-less dangerous than humans but people still love building giant cities right below them. Maybe as the most dangerous things on the Earth, we feel an implicit duty to compete with other dangerous things. A city at the base of a Volcano is like a collective statement to the mountain saying, “You’re not so tough. We’re not afraid of you.”
But I am afraid of hazards, so I stay away from them.
If given a choice between a vault full of poorly made Intercontinental Ballistics Missiles and a congested party of people, I would go with the ICBMs. Even if the missiles were poorly made and spent the last twenty years as Kazakhstani lawn ornaments they are still less likely to cause as much damage as a mob of people. Especially if those people are drunk.