Judgment Is Mine Saith…
She watched her father hang himself.
He did it right in front of her.
She was nine.
I just met her about an hour ago as we were walking into Starbucks at the same time and I asked her what the tattoo on the inside of her arm said.
“Your smile is always with me.”
Isn’t it amazing how we judge others?
I’m not talking about you or me of course. I mean the general we. The cunts out there in society.
We see a grown woman. With a few tats. Who’s been to rehab. Who’s struggling to get by. Who’s strangulated by old ghosts.
And what do we do?
We judge the living fuck out of her. For having issues. For not being “successful”.
How dare we…
Like we could have handled it any better.
As if we were responsible for the grand gift of the Brady Bunch childhoods we were given which enabled us to go to good schools, feel love, etc.
Luck of the draw my friends. Luck. Of. The. Draw.
Self righteous Republicans, aka false Christians (I say Republicans because a progressive person’s mind couldn’t even conceive of this – and I say false Christians because Jesus would crush these money changers at the temple doors), take all the credit for their successes and are lightning quick to blame others for their failures.
But they fail to realize, or better yet, refuse to realize, that we’re ALL still children. All still children, trying to make it day by day in these adult bodies. And just because they were dealt a full house from the get go, it sure as shit doesn’t mean they’re better card players – as they proclaim they are from their pulpits and political puppet shows.
So, with that, I’m damn grateful for the pair of deuces I’ve been given. They may have more than I do, and maybe more than you, but at least we’re kind. At least we know to love our neighbor as if they are us.
And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
Thank you, dear reader, for trading your time to read these words.
Sending you good vibes.
Please receive them.