Why Bethany Never Loved Me

Because I am ugly. Not physically. Well, besides physically. You see, this girl "Bethany" claimed love for me through my writings. But she was disillusioned. I feel things that are ugly. I cannot simply "Love thy neighbour." What people found reassuring about the Nazis is: they told you who you are. Bethany thought like a Nazi; she thought I was an Aryan. Again, not physically. She thought I was pure. No human being is pure. She could not understand the hatred and, more to the point, the gravitas of the hatred that people with nothing to complain about feel. I cannot mouth platitudes. I am not a member of any volleyball team. I fantasize about beheading people with scimitars. I would never do it, but I fantasize. And Bethany would deny me my fantasies. My fantasies are my humanity! My ugliness is my humanity! I demand the right to vituperate. I demand the right to spit. Shakespeare paid the Jews the highest compliment when he made Shylock, hero of the human spirit, a Semite. "Love thy neighbour" would deny me my pound of flesh. If this gets me only the occasional support of Brazilian misanthropes, so be it! We are not misanthropes! We are anthropes! We do not fit on diversity posters! I do not deny love. I pay tribute to love through the extremities I feel toward the hypocrites who lust under that name. Give me a love worthy of that name and I will love! Who were you Bethany, beneath the makeup where were your scars? I showed you my scars and you showed me your true colours. The false orange of false Aryans. If our miscegenation went unconsummated, it is because of your shallow skin.