Treat With Respect

I’m not stupid.
I’m not incompetent.
I’m not fragile.
I’m not pathetic.
 
Just because I make mistakes, it doesn’t make foolish.
Just because I cry, it doesn’t mean I’m weak.
Just because I don’t know some things, it doesn’t make me any less smart.
Just because I’m not like you, it doesn’t mean that I’m wrong.
 
Stop treating me like a child, I’m a grown woman.
People think because I’m young I’m stupid, I’m smarter than you think.
I’m tired of being made fun of because I make mistakes, everyone makes them.
I’m done with being treated as an inferior, no one is more superior than another.
 
Sometimes I say dumb things.
Sometimes I fumble in my work.
Sometimes I get anxious.
Sometimes I get depressed.

No one cares, though.
No one asks me what’s wrong.
No one tries to cheer me up.
They just like to point out what I did wrong.

I never said I was perfect, but neither are you.
I know that I’ve done wrong, and I’ve regretted every time I have.
God gave me a conscience, something most people seem to lack.
Because if you had one, you’d apologize, at least once.

Each time you made me cry.
Each time you’ve humiliated me.
Each time you’ve called me stupid.
Each time you pushed me around.

You’d ask me how MY day was.
You’d ask me how I was doing.
You’d ask me how to do something YOU didn’t know how to do,
and you wouldn’t be an ass to me when you’re wrong.

Go ahead, call me selfish.
God forbid I vent.
I’d tell you how I was feeling in person, but you’d just laugh in my face.
Or tell me how I’m wrong.

But you are the one who’s wrong, for once in your perfect life.

 
I am intelligent.
I am strong.
I am independent.
I am amazing.

You say you’re my friend, but you treat me like dirt.
You say you’ll support me, yet turn down all my decisions.
You say I’ve done good, but I see the deceit in your eyes.
You say that I matter, but only care about yourself.


I love myself and accepted my strengths and weaknesses.
I’ve loved you and accepted yours as well.
We all have them, nobody is perfect.
Why are mine always the problem?

If you truly love me, why do you treat me so poorly?

Why do you continue to stomp on my dreams?
Why do you need to kick me when I’m down?
Why do you bother with me if I’m so “awful”?

I’ve been teased.
I’ve been humiliated.
I’ve been a victim.
I’ve been pushed to my last nerve.

No more.
I’m done.
Goodbye.
Good riddance.


If you can’t treat me with respect, the problem isn’t me.

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