I know you think you know me. You think you know my life, my struggle, my path. Well I’ve got news for you: you don’t know me at all.
From the outside, we always think we know others. We see the images people present of themselves on social media. We see the fashion choices they make, the way they carry themselves and the way they speak, and we think we’ve got a solid idea of who they are.
But the truth is, it’s never that easy to really know somebody. To really understand a person, you’ve got to experience what they have experienced. You have to live their life; you have to walk in their shoes. Until you do that, you’ve got no right to judge them.
So before you judge me, try walking a mile in my shoes. They don’t fit.
Once you slip on my brown leather penny loafers, the first thing you’ll notice is the awkward fit. How many toes do these shoes think you have, three? Where does the big one even go? And they’re too high up on the ankle, scratching your heels. ‘What the hell’, you’ll think to yourself.
You won’t have to walk very far before it really starts to hurt. The squeeze will cause blisters in the long-term, blinding pain in the short. You’ll be lucky if you don’t soak your socks through with blood.
You’ll be asking yourself, ‘how could a person even get around in these shoes’? ‘This is damn near torture’, you’ll say.
And then it’ll hit you. If someone deals with this much pain and discomfort on a daily basis, but still manages to face the world with a brave face, they don’t deserve scorn and judgment. They deserve admiration and support.
So to answer your question: no, sir, I don’t have a reservation.