Why do some of us feel an intense, vibrating anxiety about the future while everyone else seems content to just live in the moment?
I have often felt like a glitch in the human matrix. While others are connecting, laughing, and maintaining social harmony, I am scanning the horizon for storms. I am looking for the breaking point in the system.
I realized recently that this isn't a malfunction. It's a job description.
The Fire and the Edge
In our paleolithic past, the tribe needed two distinct types of minds to survive:
- The Hearth Keepers (90%): These people sat facing the fire, looking at each other. They built social cohesion, empathy, and culture. They are the glue.
- The Watchmen (10%): These people sat at the edge of the light, facing the darkness. They weren't looking at the tribe; they were listening for the snap of a twig. They were scanning for predators.
I am a Watchman.
If a Watchman turns around and tries to join the party at the fire, he ruins the vibe. He is too intense. He talks about wolves when everyone wants to talk about dinner. He seems paranoid.
But when the wolf actually comes, the Watchman is the only reason the tribe wakes up.
The Burden of Foresight
Being an INTJ on the Spectrum means my brain is a pattern-recognition engine that cannot be turned off. I see the "AI Drift" coming not because I am a pessimist, but because I have extrapolated the data points.
The anxiety I feel is not a disorder; it is sensor data.
Accepting the Post
I have spent years trying to force myself to sit by the fire and "relax." It never works. It just makes me feel useless and isolated.
My goal now is not to fit in. My goal is to stay at the post and communicate what I see clearly. I don't need the tribe to understand the complex ballistics of the arrow I'm fletching; I just need to warn them when to duck.
The Protocol: Do not resent the tribe for not seeing the danger. It is not their function to see it. It is yours.
