I passed you the other day, and you sang at me (notice how I say “at” rather than “to” – romantic, or “for” – humble) . . . you sang at me in an out-of-tune falsetto. Were you auditioning for me? If yes, it was horrible. So what were you doing? Mocking? Mocking me? Of course you were. You think that if you expel air from your larynx in that inefficient and horribly unpleasant way, you can humiliate me into stopping my “weird” countertenor singing? Sorry! Never! Better people than you have tried (including my own mother), and none have succeeded.
Let me ask you a question: How could you – a loser, a scummy drug dealer who spends most of his time standing in the square hounding tourists to sell them cocaine or second grade weed – ever have the hubris to mock a person like me – a person devoted to service rather than parasitical greed, whose merchandise uplifts rather than addicts, whose talent has been practiced for twice if not three times your lifespan, whose . . .
A few people would contend that you are envious. However, I don’t believe that you are intelligent enough to be envious. You lack the acumen even to recognize how much skill and imagination it requires to do what I do. No you’re not envious, you’re just a bully, trying to control me because my mode of expression makes you uncomfortable.
You may be surprised to learn how unoriginal your mocking is. So many people have behaved towards me like you did. So many! Additionally, I would say that in general the most talentless imbeciles, lazy idiots, and inconsequential losers choose to mock people. My nature has always been too complex for this dual world. I have been mocked throughout my life, almost from the moment I was born – by everyone.
But look where it has gotten you, all you mockers. Nowhere! You continue to sell drugs in the square or die of overdose or murder or work in a dead-end job, or worse. And while I continue being creative, doing what I do, growing and becoming more and more expressive, you – steeped in anger, hatred, and envy – waste your life away doing nothing at all except trying to injure more creative and intelligent people than you.
But you know the difference between you and me: I have compassion for you. I really want you to do better. I am rooting for you to do better. You can begin by recognizing how terrible your dead-end life is and seeking a path to your creative self.