Your opinions about me
are not about me at all.
They are really about you.
Whether consciously or not,
every time you think of me,
you think in truth of yourself.
Am I pleasing you right now?
Am I saying what you want?
Am I validating you?
Do I feel the way you do?
Do my emotions match yours?
Do I make you feel secure?
Do you approve of my work?
Does what I do disgust you?
Do you like my responses?
When you ask me how I am,
does my answer fit your mood?
Do I join your misery?
Do I affirm your choices,
your situation, your life?
Do you feel uncomfortable?
If you don’t, perhaps you should.
How can you ask for freedom
when you don’t extend the same?
You ask me not to judge you,
but you judge me constantly,
simply for my existence.
It’s OK. I understand.
I know just why this happens.
Don’t worry. I forgive you.
Your opinions about me
are not about me at all.
They are about your ego.
If you treat me this badly,
when you don’t know me at all,
I am left with one question.
How much worse
do you treat
yourself?
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