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Those who look down on me have one thing in mind: they think I look down on them. Little they know that I am in love with them all...and that my words try to nothing but pull them a little higher from their chairs, higher, higher from their dwellings. Dwellings make one lazy, do you not say so?
A ray of sunshine becomes ugly. Beauty becomes misery. And one still dwells in such a sewer why? I want to lift you up, just so I can put you down again...and when you think it is all "negative," it is because you saw your dwelling again, after you elevated higher up...you saw it all, and are wondering, why it looks unpretty; why the songs all-too-suddenly sound all-too-unmusical; it is because I plant a doubt in your heart, because I dislike the Yes as much as I dislike the No; it is because I do not belong to a “side.” It is because I am a child…
I have no beliefs. I worship no one but myself, for no one, no one has given me as much as I have given myself…and no one will ever, ever, come close to match the gift that I have given myself…
I love myself…yes…and that is how much I love everyone else. Most of them are jelous because I know myself that well, because I bow to no one but my shadow...they burn with envy, because they have wasted their lives kneeling to a rule, a justice, a goodness, and by thus and only by thus they have found their well of being...a well of being exterior of them. They are still missing something: life. They are in love, but I tell you to look at them: are they not lonely? Look at them...they strive for more...they are longing, wanting, filled with desiring for and a hoping of...look at them, they want to depart this life. Look at them, they hate this life. They are life-haters...are they ever satisfied?
People mistake my love for war and hatred…don’t they mistake themselves for a God exterior of them? What, would you not pity them if you sat in my chair and looked out my window?
You are over there, and I am elsewhere...we see different things. I can tell you that you see better than me, for that is exactly what you want to hear.
Ok, you are better than me. Or is that not good enough? You see, it is not your ears that matter, it is because you know...you know that "you are better than me" has no meaning...you want me to gratify your doubting heart, your unsettled mind, now...that you have lost your virginity to the "how" and the "when," now that you are able to see the "?"...which was ignored for all your life. Hey, don't blame your virginity on me...blame it on your parents, on your teachers, on your social life, and all your paradoxes and the lies you live...but most of all, yes, most of all, blame it on yourself, because you are the only reason why you dwell, no one forced you to think in any certain way, but you chose to think that way because it is always easier to accept an answer than to ask the question, or better yet, to question the question itself. Take your garbage, the mess that you call a "life," your tragedy, to the nearest bridge and dive without looking, dear friend, because you do nothing to this world but sustain a lie, you sit, and "dream" of this and that, you pitiful you, you weakling you, you thoughtless you...you parasite of a begger, of a tramp, you! You, the prostitue, for "freedom" and "liberty," you!
I am stupid, I have said that before, so do not let me bother you...you angel of life...you wiseman...you believer...you unbeliever...do not look at me, because I might hurt your hearts...yes, my questions are that ugly; if you are too innocent, than please, avoid me by all means...because I am a rapist of all hearts and beliefs, the grim reaper himself I am, and I'll step all over you if you're not too careful when you breathe your foul words...
