Kessia Reyne, Judge of All

A very strange thing happened to me today. It was disconcerting and wonderful.


I had been judging my friend. Like, rolling my eyes and scoffing at him from the back of my throat. I like him, I respect him, I think he's cool. But I was judging him, narrowing my blue eyes at his Brazilian face. Sometimes when we were together, and sometimes when we were not, I would take out a new label and slap it on him.


    "critical"                                   "cynical"
                                  "suspicious"    
              "disciple of so-and-so"           "Narrow"


Then today he challenged me. "Don't judge me." I defended myself. I told him that I wasn't judging him. I told him that I was just listening to what he was saying, I was just observing what he was doing. I told him that I saw him becoming like this certain professor, that I heard him and his friend talking about one thing or another... I usually "win" at these sorts of "discussions." But he pushed back. He defended himself. Our eyes flashed. Our swords clashed. Our words met and punched it out.


And in the end, he was right. I had been judging him, and unfairly so.


I was accusing him of being cynical and critical and judgmental. But in judging him I was being cynical and critical and judgmental.


Dangit. Sorry, Tiago.