I despise the idea of uniqueness.
Not the word, or the definition, but the idea. To be unique, according the the dictionary, is to be utterly one of a kind, unlike anything else. The idea, then, is that to be unique is something to strive for. To make yourself completely different from everyone else so you stand out. And I think that’s an awfully lonely way to get by.
Look at The Doctor, in Doctor Who. He’s spent the last couple hundred years of his life sure that he’s the last of his kind (and, you now, it’s his fault). But still. He’s sad, hes lonely, he commits genocide a couple of times and generally leads a destructive lifestyle. And nobody understands. He can’t talk to anyone like they’ve seen it or like they really know what he’s went through. While many people understand the feeling of nobody understanding (as illustrated between Amy and 11) and many people understand pain, they still can’t get it. Not really.
But J.R., you say. When people want to be unique, they don’t want to be completely different. It’s just the one thing that sets them apart. An idea that no one has had, a way of expression that no one has thought of before.
My response is this: A unique idea does not make a person unique.
You still think and feel like at least a handful of other people on this planet. Even if you’re sure you don’t, the universe is vast and wonderful and I’m sure you’ll find something. Like The Doctor, so fed up with his own people he found a new home with the humans.
You can perceive uniqueness, though, and that’s fine. Someone can be unlike anyone you’ve ever met. One of a kind in your mind. Especially if you love them. But that makes them just a bit like you, if you love them.
I have always been very lonely, being that I am not quite like other people I know, that y brain works just a it differently. If everyone else it on frequency 3, I’m on frequency 3.14. I know a lot of people inhabit frequency 3.14, and I can hear them, but I’ve never met them. And it’s lonely. So I can’t understand why anyone would want their own frequency just to themselves. Who would you talk to? Yourself? I unsure the allure, but a one sided conversation can only go so far.
The other day, I was asked, “How unique do you think you are?”
I was confused by the question and could think think to say “I don’t think I’m unique.”
Everyone is different, and that’s great. But everyone is also the same. We’re made from star stuff. And none of us really want to be completely unique. We want to connect. Even Moriarty has Sherlock.
This has sort of led into a new idea all by itself: That uniqueness doesn’t actually really exist. I’m not quite sure how I can articulate this beyond that statement, but there you go. A thought for the day.