When you see me in the incandescence of the marketplace, amongst the buzzing flies and loudmouth charlatans, a simple acknowledging nod is suffice. Do not attempt to stop me, for I will defiantly stride right past you.
You will know me by the black squishy grime under my fingernails, brooding brown eyes, and disconnected disposition.
I do not care about your petty praises, save them for the needy of spirit–the ones who count their counterfeit likes and fabricated followings.
Do they not understand that those metrics do not measure the greatness of a man?
Do they not understand that those numbers are irrelevant and subject to the capriciousness of their pseudo admirers, who care more about a followback than a true friendship?
Do they not understand that their time on earth is limited, and there is work to be done, legacy to be cultivated, self-mastery to be reaped?
Do not burden yourselves with such pathetic sycophants, for their existence will be null and void by the discerning verdict of time.