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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
My very short reflection on our constant judgement of the people we pass by.

Submitted: May 06, 2016

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Submitted: May 06, 2016



I walk through campus with the constant snapping of people around me. Everywhere I go, the noise is deafening. The worst part is my own snapping in response to theirs. The initial recoil from their contact and the subconscious, undeniable echo of my retort.

A part of me wishes I couldn’t be seen. Perhaps I’d walk around invisible and simply snap at them. Or maybe I could finally forge on in silence and not fear the noise. Because right now, living in the visible, I can’t help but shiver with anxiety. Every time they look at me I hear the snapping. My stained shorts and the loose structure of my clothing. Snap. My blemished face and untamed eyebrows. Snap. My frizzy hair and ill-suited features. Snap. Every superficial judgement about my exterior assumes that what lies beneath is just as unimpressive.

My entire appearance implies sloppiness, indifference, and entropy. But to believe a cursory glance and snap judgement give an accurate picture of who I am, is very very wrong. Maybe you don’t care who I am or why I keep myself this way. That’s fine, but it is important to acknowledge that you don’t know me. And those two seconds where your eyes chafe against my clothes, body, and face, doesn’t tell you anything.

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