You resent me. You question my choices. You do not approve of what I do. When I try to explain, you don't listen. You refuse to be brought out of your shell saying that you are happy just staying where you are. You build walls and manage to disillusion yourself.

You claim that you do what you want. But do you really know what you want? You can not even tell right from wrong. You do not even know who you really are. No, you do not know what it truly means to live. You are a stranger to passion, to service, and to nobility. You do not possess strength, credibility, and responsibility. Your love is overwhelming but it is not real. Oh, how I pity you.

You resent me. You question my choices. You do not approve of what I do. But if you were in my position, I bet you wouldn't have enough guts to be half the person that I am.

Note: This essay was inspired by a discussion in Mr. Barbaza's Philosophy class about master and slave morality. I thought it interesting for a master persona to speak to a slave persona.

P.S. Don't you just hate people who, without looking at their own imperfect selves in the mirror first, condemn you and hate you in their feeble attempt to mask their envy and/or their weakness? Some part of me actually feels sorry for such kind of people. I may not be perfect but I am genuinely happy and at peace with myself knowing that I always do (or at the very least try to do) the right thing. People who can't make the same claim ought to shut up and stop bad-mouthing others.