You

I am not impressed with who you know.

The fact that you got backstage passes does not mean you are worth anything.

Your namedropping only validates your insecurity.



I am impressed by your achievements, by your talent, by your character, by your individuality.

I am impressed by how little you try to impress me.



I don't care about how much money you have; show me how fun and interesting you are with no cash in your pockets.

Your possessions do not make you valuable; they only prove you are another consumer.



The harder you work to earn my approval, the lamer you appear.



Your intellect does not equal wisdom; the degrees you have acquired do not give you superiority, virtue, good judgement or good sense.



Your incessant criticisms do not hide the fact that you are utterly unable to create anything yourself.

Your anonymous cheapshots are the epitome of cowardice.




I admire your willingness to fail on your own terms.

I abhor your desire to succeed on someone else's terms.



Your slavish adherence to fashion only reveals your crippling fear of being thought unfashionable.



I like you for burning brightly with quiet understatement.



Your tolerance for others illuminates a tremendous confidence in yourself.

Your bigotry and chosen ignorance betray your self-loathing.



Your lifetime devotion to conformity does not make you virtuous.

Your religious convictions do not make you righteous.



Shouting louder does not make you less wrong.

Show me how much you can say without opening your mouth.



Your work, your creations, your uniqueness, they speak for themselves.