Short Story / Horror
Short Story / Young Adult
Poem / Poetry
I don’t care if you only shop at thrift stores or if you read nothing but classic novels. I don't care whether you are thirteen or thirty four. I don't care if you haven't quite grassped the english language. I will not judge you. I don't what kind of haircut you have, what sort of statement you’re making while you live a vegan lifestyle or if you love steaks and fried eggs. Love sex, hate drugs or do cocaine while you listen to Simon and Garfunkel. I’m not interested in how superior your taste in underground music is. I couldn’t care less if you’re wearing urban outfitters jeans, tatted shoes, or a Hollister polo. It is not important to me whether you are a writer, a dreamer, a painter, a gas station clerk, or if your living off food stamps. I don’t give a shit if you’re a hippie, a hall-assed hipster, an atheist, a devoted Christian, wealthy, dirty, catholic, homeless, Jewish, Buddhist, a smoker, a drinker, clean, or shy. I will not judge you. I don't care how extensive your vocabulary may be, which independent films you’ve seen, what books you’ve read, how high your IQ is. I will still open the door for you. I promise. And I will let you sit near me if another seat is unavailable. Even if you don’t like what I believe in and even if I disagree with some of your ideas. I will fucking respect you. I will offer you some common decency. Not because it’s right, and not because you deserve it, but because that is what makes sense to me. This is what has always made sense to me. I’m a shadow. Neurotic, opaque, and drunk with fascination. I’m your friend. And you don’t have to impress me because I’m not here to impress you.
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