I’m a night
owl, not much for the daytime, not much for the light.
Everything
that’s worth happening happens in the dark.
Parties,
Drugs,
One-night stands.
Fun, period.
It all
happens when the petrified sun slinks down and the daring moon
shows it’s
face.
People don’t
get me. They say I have no aspirations, no ambition.
What they
don’t understand is that I do, and to me, they’re
perfect goals
but to society, they don’t add up.
Unacceptable,
Unrealistic,
Distasteful,
Improper,
Offensive,
Undesirable,
Unsatisfactory,
Reject.
That’s my
label. I’m not sure who attains the right to
decide just
what I am, just who I am.
Who gets to
place judgment on me?
Who gets to
determine whether or not my past was
horrific
enough, whether I displayed strength or weakness,
whether I am
worth it? I can only characterize one fitting
this
description. He is the Lord.
Most would be
astounded to hear me admit that. They’d ask
if I were
sick, or if someone forced me to entertain such
an idea. The
truth is, I do believe in God; it just doesn’t
always show.
Maybe my choices in life satisfy the devil,
or maybe,
they just don’t satisfy civilization.
What makes me
different from many other teenagers, is that my self-image is envied by other,
my self-esteem too. I know who I am, and I couldn’t care less who gives a damn.
You don’t
have to like me.
You don’t have to love me.
You don’t even have to
acknowledge me.
You simply have to
respect me and my way of life.
Don’t
judge
until
you’ve been
in
my shoes.
And if you
haven’t, you probably never will be.
And if you
never were, don’t waste your breath.
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