Nobody Else but Me

I’ve been called a lot of things. The latest were ‘delusional’, ‘misguided’, and my personal favourite, ‘idiotic’. It’s always interesting to hear people’s review of yourself, especially since opinions often carry even more information about the people who hold them than the subject matter concerned. Which is why as much as I’ll keep listening to what people say about me, I’ve learned that to swallow them whole and let them completely define me would never bring much good.

I’ve chosen how I live my life. It may not fulfill the expectations or approval of others, nor be up to their standards, nor even be to their liking. But guess what? It’s my choice. Just as it is your choice to live yours. It doesn’t mean that you’re not allowed to judge me, though. Of course you are. Hell, I judge you, too. We all can’t help judging one another. But when you expect me to change into something or someone else when I don’t ever ask you to, who exactly is the deluded and misguided idiot here? You don’t know what’s best for me. Even I don’t know what’s best for me. We all just live whichever way we can and see what happens anyway.

So when you say that you’re worried about me, what exactly are you worried about? It’s not like you’ve been around me or helped me when I’m down and out or even ‘been there for me’. And please chill, I know that the world isn’t made of candy canes and cotton candy and that people are people instead of angels and that oftentimes in order to see beauty it takes not only willingness but a whole lot of effort. I know that. But hell, why should it be anyone’s concern if I want to believe otherwise? As if people don’t rely on their denials and justifications and delusions to live through each day. And if you think you don’t, well sweetie baby honey, that’s your own delusional misguided idiocy talking.

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