Maybe home is nothing but two arms holding you tight when you’re at your worst.
Yes, I give cash to people who ask for help on the streets. I choose to believe that they really do need it for bus fare or for a loaf of bread. I choose to believe in the good.
Yes, I smile and interact with restaurant servers. I know their struggle.
Yes, I wear running shoes; no, I’m not a man.
Yes, I yield at yield signs, slow down for speed bumps, go all the way around round-abouts instead of cutting the corner, and go 24 in a 25. Nope, that doesn’t mean I don’t speed on the highway or on back country roads. It doesn’t mean I drive like an elder. It means I’m cautious in neighborhoods because I care about the kids that play in those yards.
Yes, I wear glasses. That doesn’t mean I’m a nerd. And it certainly doesn’t make me unattractive.
Yes, I listen to country music and identify with being a hick. I can also identify with rap and punk and even classical. Listening to a genre that you hate, doesn’t mean I listen to bad music.
Yes, I have depression and it has a monstrous past. That absolutely doesn’t mean that I don’t love to laugh or have fun, because I do. Laughter is the best cure.
Yes, I wear high heels; no, I’m not a whore.
Yes, I feel bad for people on death row. Nope, that doesn’t mean I have no heart.
Yes, I drink alcohol. Does that mean I’m an alcoholic? Nope.
Yes, I read the Bible and attend church. I even sing along in church. No, I’m not a freak who will bite your head off for swearing or sex or anything else.
I make choices that lead to mistakes or successes too. If you took the time to see past the stereotypes and judgement, you’d see. Get to know me. Get to know the person you’ve overlooked for so long. Get to know the girl that is a catch, you just can’t see past the front.