Sometimes I think maybe the things I think, I write, do, say are not good enough. They could take improvement. Or maybe I could even cause harm, unless I improved.
Then I stumble upon one of those guys or girls, who don’t don’t know me. Who have no idea who I am, what I do. Yet they think they know all about me. And it turns that what they think about me is either some very twisted perception of me, or something completely out of space (when they actually talk about it).
Actually, I hardly remember any time that I had the finger pointed at me for a fair reason, or for something that had actually happened. At least part of it was always imaginary.
And they seem to have something against me, without knowing me. And that hate makes me wonder ‘wtf’? Did I do something I’m not aware of? Did I forget to zip my pants? What is it?
Those guys don’t try to correct themselves. But are willing to correct me, others. They play the bosses, the righteous ones, the critics, the judges. And certainly, they’ve never done anything wrong, themselves.