"justified narcissism"

by C. Ikpoh

I am exceedingly progressive beyond anything that one is able to fathom. My sub-conscious mind bleeds into my conscious self, reinforcing the unique insanity only I obtain. The genius I possess is exclusive. To label the aforementioned as arrogance is not only an understatement but an insult. Absolute self-indulgence is a more apt description. Behold greatness.


A simple thought process of my mind outweighs in creativity, revelation, wisdom, logic and reason, the entire well of knowledge the remaining members of my species achieve over the course of a life time. Indeed, my mental prowess is minutely short of divine in magnitude and quality. Yes, even one as superior as I know the boundary. Yet, I never claimed to be perfect, only conscious. The origin of such excellence is consistently acknowledged and will forever be celebrated.


The fact I am able to effectively communicate my cerebral glory with the masses feeds my soundly formulated sense of grandeur. It also annoyingly pecks at my justified narcissism. I understand those under me to a fault at times. The inescapable ability to recognize their existence relays a false sense of relation and familiarity. It reminds them, as well as myself, of a fact I would rather forget. I am from the people. However, what they do not understand is I am not of the people. Such magnificence cannot exist in a common bond shared with any resemblance of lesser greatness, and most certainly not with mediocrity and those further down below that.


If any doubt these words, let them prove otherwise. To do so, they shall attempt to replicate my works. They shall attempt to improve upon my perfect imperfections. Let them create one to replace me, and attempt to erase all memory of me through the greater doings and existence of my replacement. Let them re-enact my life in perfect detail and attempt to produce a more complete, fulfilling destiny. I beckon all spirits -- past, present and future -- to engage in such daunting tasks. I beseech thee! Let the world do all these things!


I do so because I know what they do not; another bit of reality my conscious has stolen in the form of a sand granule from the hourglass of time (Which, by the way, is an achievement only such greatness as I can execute). I know they will fail. They will meet unequivocal defeat as they stare at the force that is my existence. They will fail to reproduce what I am, for no thing in this universe can be replicated if it cannot be conceived in its entirety. This inevitable failure is my justified narcissism.