Poetry

Let's Suppose

"I'm begging you to spare me the pleasure of your company" -Bring me the Horizon

It's the most ridiculous thing when people try to force their opinions on you. Suppose you don't like me. In fact, you hate me. Whenever you see me, you judge every inch of me, guess the motivation for my every action, assume what I'm thinking and why. You think my interests are pathetic. You think the way I dress is tragic.

Knock yourself out. Be as obsessed, disgusted, furious, or uncomfortable with me as you want. But don't give me your opinion on me like your some sort of almighty god and I'm just your charge. If you have a problem with me- I don't care how deeply and strongly in festers within you- keep that waste to yourself.

If I didn't ask for your "glorious" opinion of me, shove it down your throat.

Everywhere I go, people are making snap judgements, wondering, "knowing".

She acts tough because...

The reason she wears baggy clothes is...

She only gets so mad because...

This is why she laughed...

This is what she wants...

Newsflash to break the stream of information you are stupid enough to think you have on me- you know less than nothing of me. I've mentioned that before, but it's just so important- Don't judge anyone, even if you think you know the person inside and out. And especially if you don't.

If I want to wear my hair messy and wear boy clothes, it is of absolutely no concern to you. It's not for you to pick apart-

She thinks she isn't pretty!
She thinks it makes her special!

If I want to edit my pictures, your opinion of it is meaningless-

She's insecure about this!
She's afraid of being that!

Take one billion steps back. Move away from me. Keep your so called "suggestions" in your apparently gigantic mind, where you have space to judge every little thing about me and understand every one of my motives, too.

If I wanted to know what you thought, I would ask. And I certainly didn't ask for what you think is wrong about me or my actions. You can watch everything I do, document it and make charts in your head, walk around thinking you know me intimately. But you cannot proceed to tell me who you think I am.