I counselled fellow smart people the other day. In a space of four days, five smart people went to me with their sadness and worries.
Smart people often get into depression easily. This is unlike dumb people and idiots who go through life, skipping with fake happiness - a saccharine joy - that always leaves them empty afterwards.
Anyway, lots of geniuses kill themselves, which is why I turned to the subject early on, in my youth. With my towering intellect, as well as being the sole member of the transcendent species Homo Ultimatus, it was simply a matter of time before I take my own life instead of spending another minute with idiots.
All that I have discovered, learned and am preaching is a direct result of my attempts to understand and deal with depression. I believe that if you're smart enough, you can avoid being depressed, maybe even be happy without falling into the idiotic trap of denial.
I find that I write this, not for anyone else, but for me. Because no one can understand me but myself. And this has nothing to do with intelligence or me being more intelligent than anyone (and chances are I am).
I find that depression and happiness are not fixed constructs. They are choices of being. And that true happiness is not ha-ha happiness. Neither is 'neener-neener' happiness true happiness.
Well, this is a long and laboured treatise, and I am going to sleep in a moment. So, maybe next time I'll share with you why I have not taken a shotgun to my head or something.