Excerpt From the Draftings of my Memoir

A great many people will forever demonstrate the irksome tendency to take the sum of their personal observations on you and then use that to dictate what must be the content of your character.
They will always often revel in united love of generalisations which make their lives easier not because it's right to do, which they'd argue that it is, but rather because it feels better than striving to do good under the weight of being human.
It matters not what you say in defense of yourself. It matters not what you say of the sort of person you really are. It matters not what you do or become to show them they are wrong about you.
Just as it matters not what you say of anything.
For they have already decided. Those people have already spoken. For well beyond the scope of your time trying to convince them otherwise, they have been waiting for you to even begin trying.
They have built a wall so colossal in strength and titanic in size that to topple it down just to speak with them on the other side would be madness unlike any other kind.
And if you are to persist in marching through such plains of madness you shall do so unto your death. You will do so alone; not because you are not surrounded by others... but instead because you are surrounded by being misunderstood by such people.
The important thing is to focus on those few who are not so quick to judge, are not so quick to harden their hearts, and not so quick to close their minds.
The important thing is to struggle forward and to know balance. To not stay in one place of the mind for too long or too little. To not dwell in one being too often. To not ever be so comfortable that in order to keep it, you'd sacrifice what growth you've accomplished on your way to obtain it.
A comfortable mind is a rested mind. A rested mind is a peaceful mind. The only kind of mind I know that should ever be at total peace is a dead one. And you are not dead yet, for entropy has not taken you whole thus far.
Power on until it does.