Looks like Ayn Rand’s novel – the Fountainhead and its protagonist, no hero, Howard Roark have really affected me in ways deeper than I fathomed. Had it not been for the novel, I would not have found the strength with which I’ve embarked on my personal Roark-like crusade – the crusade to be me. It will be just the first of my life-long fights for the preservation of identity, for being allowed to be an individual. I’m going to go out today and proudly proclaim all that I was, I am and that I will be and say that I’ve no need to hide. I’m going to refuse to stuff skeletons in my closet just because ‘others’ don’t like the sight of them. They can gossip their voices hoarse or close their eyes. I’m not going to feign shame to satiate their superegos. I am going to be my own Howard Roark in this trial and play both – the defence and the defendant. Only there is no just cause to fight for. Trivial issues need no attention; so I’ll rest my case.
Let them not like me – it isn’t necessary that everybody I meet on the face of this earth must. I’m not here to win popularity contests. At least, no; the greatest fact of all remains that I’ll sleep easy; I’ll like myself. Let those who’ve condemned themselves to hatred for me seethe inside. Let them carry their fake, yet heavy, moral thrones of judgement till they’re crushed by the weight of their very consciences someday.
I’ll forgive them and set myself free. I’ll laugh the last laugh.