I live in a world of judgement. Judgement, judgement, judgement. Everywhere I go there is judgement. The whole world judges me. Even I judge me. I mean, the whole world can’t be wrong, Can it? There must be something in it…


There’s no real escape from it, that’s what gets me. Nowhere to hide. Wherever I go I see people’s eyes on me and I know what they’re thinking. No one ever says anything, but then again they don’t need to. It’s silent judgement, which is the worst kind. I can feel it off them. I can feel the weight of people’s disapproval and condemnation on my shoulders as I walk down the street. It’s palpable. They know that I’ve done wrong. They’re wishing I would go away. Wishing I would go somewhere else. Letting me know that I’m not welcome there. Letting me know that I should go…


But where am I supposed to go anyway? Wherever I go there are people wishing I would find somewhere else to go. So I just have to keep on moving, ignoring the silent hostility as best I can. Trying not to let it get to me. “Trying not to let it get to me!” That’s a joke. How can it not get to me? Universal rejection and condemnation. The cold shoulder of humanity. And as I say even if there’s no one else around, like when I’m back in my flat, I judge myself. I see myself as being beyond the pale – a shuffling, haunted creature that is quite simply beyond redemption. Not deserving of being in human company.


As I say, I live in a world of judgement. Judgment, judgement, judgement wherever I go. That’s all there is. There’s nothing else in it. No other flavour. No other quality. No other message to be heard. I know what people think by the look in their eyes. They try not to show it generally, but it comes out all the same – like cold disdain, but worse. A terrible distance. Willing me to go away so they don’t have to experience whatever it is I make them experience. Revulsion probably. Disgust. Loathing.


It came to head yesterday when I was getting the bus back from town. I don’t like buses, obviously, but it was too cold and wet to walk. For some reason this journey was worse than usual. More intense. Nobody looked at me but I could feel the hostility. It was as if I was being stabbed by knives. They wanted me not to be there. I knew they were all judging me and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I started muttering under my breath, rocking to and fro as I let the words out – “I didn’t do it, OK? I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it…” That was my mantra.


This time people did look at me. Every single person on the bus looked at me and it was actually a lot worse when this happened. When people actually openly stared. Which they did, with frank curiosity. I jumped off at the next stop, looking straight ahead, not paying any heed to the way everyone was looking at me getting off the bus. Trying not to let that get to me…



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