Why Are You Mad At Me Because I'm Not Like You?

We can’t be who you want us to be. I'm not sorry that we're angry. I'm not sorry that we're marching.

What about my existence, or that of any other, declares that who I am must be a fit of sorts for how you perceive the world?

Why am I not able to simply be and simultaneously feel accepted?

Who are we if not endless attempts by the universe to get it right? But that’s the joke. That’s the human talking.

Because I don’t know that there is a right.

The questions we ask reveal who we are and how we see the world.

There is no right.

And that doesn’t remove personal responsibility.

That doesn’t pardon personal integrity.

Being ourselves is not inclusive to, nor does it permit us to, treat others with disrespect, to oppress, to rationalize inequality or abuse for the sake of the economy or some other mental concept that doesn’t matter in the face of people being beaten down in the streets.

But let me be clearer still.

To be true to my essence can never, not ever, be disrespectful. Because our essence is good, is love, and it’s the core of all things. It brings forth a sense of innocence. It blends truth with beauty beyond this world.

To not be me is the real sin.

For you to feel disrespected in response to my natural state of honored self-expression, in response to something birthed from what the naked eye cannot see...

… that can be felt profoundly if you allow it.

… that if you look in the right way, will arise before you.

What’s really in question is your contemptuous entitlement. That’s the real perversion.

And for you to be upset that I don’t fit the cast you subscribed to long before you knew better…

Well, I’m sorry Mr. President.

I’m not sorry.

I’m not sorry that we’re angry.

As certain as your ignorance is espoused so will wisdom rise with equal and greater force.

For light cannot exist without darkness.

And your journey will be a long one.

It’s a long way home when you’ve wandered so far and extended your good will to only a fraction of the deserving that is humanity.

I do not pity you.

I pray for you with a mix of anger, sorrow, and conviction.

This is doing the work.

Showing up, caffeinated or not.

Filled with piss, vinegar, and sparkles.

This is the human world, folks. And I’m doing my best to bring forth some ethereal wisdom, unicorns, and laughter.

And I’m not sorry.


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