The quality of being unpleasantly proud.
Behaving as if you are more important or knowledgeable than others.
These are the usual connotations of the word arrogance.
When looking at dictionary definitions, arrogance seems to emerge from a feeling of superiority. However, is that always the case?
These kinds of terms are often associated with illusionary perceptions of the self. But what if the opposite is also true?
Can a person carry a certain type of arrogance simply because they are too aware of themselves?
Why is it rarely considered that self-awareness itself can become a legitimate reason for wrapping ourselves in the silk fabric of arrogance?
Does it always have to be something negative? Does it always distance us from our surroundings in an illusionary way?
I have always known that my way of thinking did not appeal to many people in many situations. Once, when I had the chance, I wanted to transfer my messy way of thinking onto a blank white paper and use all the non-traditional connections in my writing. The result? Of course I failed.
At the time, one of my professors anonymously used my paper as an example of failure in class. Although I had literally failed, it did not feel destructive. Rather, I saw it as a chance to observe how my way of thinking was perceived within my own habitat.
After that, I decided to keep the genuine side of my mental world to myself and started using my mind in saving mode, literally. I began analyzing the way that professor was thinking. It turned into a small experiment for me. I noted the words he used, his sentence structures, the way his mind connected subjects and pulled arguments from one point to another. I think one of the best parts of being a student is having enough time for these kinds of observations.
Anyway, that day came and I had a second chance to write freely again. Was it really me writing those thoughts, or was I simply pretending? I still do not know.
I filled that paper while imagining myself as if I were that professor. What would he write if this were his assignment?
My second paper was declared the perfect assignment, by the way.
You may ask, “We started with arrogance and somehow arrived at an ordinary memory that anyone could experience.” But I think the real question is this: where is the border between being arrogant and carrying yourself with a certain degree of arrogance?
For me, it was realizing to what extent I was being accepted, and to what extent I could bend myself if I truly wanted to fit in. It was also realizing how ordinary I actually was.
At some point, I also realized that what I truly thought, or who I genuinely was, was rarely important to most environments in the first place. People usually accepted the version of you that functioned well enough within the structure around them.
After noticing this, I think I started leaving only a measured amount of ordinariness behind me wherever I went. Just enough to fit naturally into the atmosphere, but never enough to feel entirely dissolved inside it.
Knowing my own limits and ordinariness strangely brought me a sense of arrogance throughout the years. It created a subtle separation between me and others. Because I was fully aware of myself, with both my strengths and weaknesses, I knew I could tame myself accordingly if necessary.
That self-control, and perhaps self-manipulation towards the outer world, became the main fabric of my arrogance.
Everyone else was ordinary too. The only difference was that many people were not fully aware of it yet.
Sometimes the feeling of superiority can come from being absolutely grounded.
Sometimes I ask myself: could arrogance also be a way of coping with having a painfully solid place in this world? Being ordinary in the most ordinary way can also hurt. Then you start thinking: “I achieved, I endured, I learned, and I still remained within this ordinariness.”
That is usually the moment when a subtle arrogance taps you lightly on the back, wraps itself around you, and quietly becomes your shadow.
Maybe arrogance is not always born from illusion.
Sometimes it grows quietly from knowing exactly where you stand.
Who knows.
Artwork: The Travelling Companions, Augustus Leopold Egg
Between Everywhere and Nowhere 
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