I am well used to suffering the jealous behaviour of others as a consequence of their resentment arising from my brilliance. No matter how inclusive and charming I may be there are always some who suffer from the politics of envy. If I understood what sympathy really was I suppose I might have some for these people. It must be horrendous never achieving anything of note and being mired in mediocrity. Thankfully, not all those who are not blessed with the talents that my kind and me have are prone to this behaviour. If that was the case then surely we would face anarchy. Many of them realise their status as an epsilon semi-moron to borrow Aldous Huxley’s description from Brave New World and they are content to fulfil that role. There is much to be said for knowing your place. Few are destined to greatness and one will lead a much more satisfying life if one accepts that at an early stage and you leave the important stuff to those of us who occupy the rarefied stratosphere of superb achievement.
It is a regrettable trait that certain people, envious and jealous of my achievements feel the need to attack me. It is puzzling since so often I have exhibited nothing but pleasantness and compliments towards them and have enabled them to benefit from my largesse, but still they feel the need to attack me and pour scorn on what I do. Admittedly, they are in the minority and that is a helpful indicator and confirmation (if it were needed) that their stance is both unpleasant and erroneous. They might catcall my kind and me, attempting to attribute our success to underhand and devious methods, but they are merely fuming that they did not think of driving forward in such a manner themselves. Whenever I have to deal with one of these idiots who tries to denigrate me then I must always remind them that you cannot add to the stature of a dwarf by cutting off the leg of a giant. That usually sends them away with a flea in their ear.
No, I have no sympathy for these fools, only contempt. Perhaps if they had tried harder at school, worked harder in their occupations and applied their minds with the singularity of vision and purpose that my kind and me are famed for, then and only then, these people might have achieved something.
I resist all attempts to cut me down. I am the tallest of poppies and you must crane your neck, look upwards and admire me for what I am. Of course, it is entirely appropriate that I maintain my stature by removing those who might unseat me. Should anyone else grow close to where I am and have the audacity to cast a shadow over my progress and achievements then I am left with no choice but to wield my scythe and cut them down. I must do it to them before they do it to me. It is the law of the jungle and you do not grow as tall and as fine as me without being able to eradicate the aspirers, the false climbers and the clambering imposters. Threaten my superiority and I will cut you down without hesitation or regret. I am compelled to ensure that the glow of sunny admiration falls on me and that there is no shadow from any other that might impinge my steady advance upwards.