Who are you to judge me anyway?

I want you to do something for me, right now.  Ask yourself that question above.  Be honest when you ask and even honester when you answer.

Do you really think you’re in a position to judge me?

Do you really believe that you should be free to treat me differently because of things you think you know about me?

What is it that you think you know about me?

Do you reckon there may actually be more to the story?  Can you believe that there are things about me that you may not know, that may colour what it is you think about me?

Are you able to conceive that these things may be none of your business?  Can you wrap your head around the idea that these things might actually be the basis for what you think about me, yet you may never really know the details of them?

Knowing all of this, are you still satisfied with those thoughts you have of me?  Are you secure in the knowledge that your thoughts about me, good or bad, are based in factual experiences with me and not just things that you think you know but have no real supporting facts behind them?

None of this really matters anyway.  Not to me, at least.  I ask you these questions so that you’ll ask yourself these questions, and not because I want to ask you these questions.

We’ve already moved past that, you and I, even if you didn’t know.

You see, you’ve already told me what you think and how you plan on treating me thusly.  You’ve made it clear who I am to you and how that will affect our relationship.  Me asking you to ask yourself questions is just because I wish for the best in people, not because I’m hopeful it will change anything.

Not to sound too cynical, but I don’t really think this will change anything.

When I left my church at 15, you scorned me and looked powerfully disapproving.  You also softened that look and slapped me on the shoulder, wishing me luck.

When I left my home state for far away at 19, you wished I wouldn’t go so far away and you wanted me to want to stay home.  You also swelled with pride and encouraged me to find my own wings.

When I left my top-notch university for an uncertain place with an uncertain direction, you scratched your heads at me but let me go, most of you never finding me again nor wishing to be found.  You also wished me luck and offered to pack me a lunch on my journey.

When I almost made the biggest mistake of my life, most of you stayed quiet and gave insincere congratulations.  When I dodged that bullet, almost none of you said a thing about that either.

When I made the biggest change of my life, I received scorn and ill feelings, had guilt heaped upon me in mounds and got so many puzzling looks that I wondered if I’d grown a set of tits.  I also got huge hugs, sincere congrats, and proud encouragement from places I’d never expected.

When I was new to a strange place, you treated my new-ness with ambivalence and showed more fear than joy.  You also welcomed me in as if I were returning home instead of finding it for the first time.

When things got hard, you sat back and acted as if you’d have it all sorted if it was your mess, and you still act that way this very day, this very morning.  You also showed me that come hell or high water, you’re going to stick around, by sticking around through hell and high water.

Know how I didn’t want to sound too cynical before?  It’s because I’m not.

It’s not that I don’t have hope that you’ll change, or that reading this will somehow make you think and will somehow affect the relationship that we have.  I don’t really think that.

Because during all that shit I listed out above, at all those stages in my life that I wrote out just now, you did those things because that’s Who You Are, and nothing I did or said to you seemed to make one tiny little fucking difference.

You were going to be that person the whole time.  And you were.

And you’re being them now.