You Don't Judge Me I Got Issues Mga Nobela at Kwento

That word seemed to be a trigger for the emotions I was trying to calm down. I poked his chest. "I've been there!" I shouted; tears were already streaming down my face. "How people judge me, how they repeatedly defame my name despite what I do, how they always talked ill against me, I've experienced it all! And bullsh*! That's not just a problem, Agustine!"

"Then what's the problem." "There's no problem." He pushed off the doorframe and came to stand directly behind me. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of him without us touching. We both looked at the mirror. "Talk," he said quietly. I exhaled. "Tomorrow every person in that room is going to look at me and try to figure out what I am to you. Whether I belong there. Whether I'm a liability or a trophy or a mistake." I paused. "I know who I am. I just hate being assessed by people who've already decided."

Not that I wasn’t being judged, but I feel like I will never be worthy of anything. “You are not even qualified to breathe out my last name,” he boomed. “Lexi, come and take this trash out of my office,” he said over the intercom. Did he just call me trash? I burst into tears in front of him. I cursed ever being 18; perhaps if I had been older, I would not have cried in response to such insults. How can he call me garbage when he has never met me? He knows nothing about me, and yet he fucking judges me. As Lexi entered his office, the last thing I heard from Mr. Lombardi was,

"Are you okay? The girls said you were not feeling well." I laugh. "Woah my guy friends were worried about me." Jayden protests, jokingly. "Hey! We are not heartless people who do not have any feelings." I smile and say, "Thanks for thinking about me and to answer your question, I am just having flu for now, so I'll be fine." Kayden looks at Zach. "Bro, are you even okay? You have been in your own world ever since yesterday." Everyone, including me, looks at him and he says, "Yeah just having some bad days."

“You’re getting it wrong, I promise you.” “No, honey, you’re the person getting it all wrong here, and you know that. I’m so sick of these women judging me every fucking time I meet them. She isn’t the first, and she definitely isn’t going to be the last. She can have you because right now, whatever we both had is giving over. Don’t show up at my door. Your mother can have you.”

I grumbled back. "You trust me, right?" She asked, her voice calm and soothing. "You know I do. " I affirmed. "And you know I have never judged you, right?" "Hey" I called sharply. "You have judged me in the past." I called out. "Oh, when you gave yourself a haircut last year? I judged you rightly, and you know that" She replied and I smiled, recalling that memory. "But I don't judge and you know that" She added and I smiled with a nod.

“That’s not what I mean. I mean, like, that was when I found out. Not when we, uhmm…” “Gosh… this is insane. This is crazy. Fuck. This is… damn. Is that why you didn’t judge me? With Grey?” Stiles asked. “No, not at all. It’s not. That’s not the reason why,” I lied—partially. “I just couldn’t judge you. And even though I wasn’t into this, I still can’t. I can’t judge you, Stiles.” He stared at me for a moment longer. “Wow…”

"How can you say that?" I mean, she knows everything about me. The good, the bad, and the ugly. "Everyone has issues, whether they see a therapist for them or not. Everyone comes with their own unique set of baggage. I'm not in the business of judging people for what they've been through or the mistakes they've made." "But you can't possibly want me with him," I whisper.

He does not stop to see me as I see him. The emptiness I shoved to the background jostles and rears its ugly head, and I do not have the strength to push it back down. I do not have the strength to fight it. The night air hits us and I shiver as he strides toward the parking lot. I do not even focus on the onlookers who are watching us. They do not matter. They never did. People do not understand. People judge. He does not. Dan’s never judged me, even when he acts like an asshole with multiple jerk tendencies. He’s strict but never judgmental.

"Something's are just difficult to go about. Everyone is scared of judgment." "Why would I judge you, Isabella?" "Because I'm not like you," I admit. "Or Caroline, or Olivia, or Lucas—" "And why does that matter?" He asks me, peering into my eyes as if he is stripping off every piece of armor. I want to get up and run someplace where I can be alone, where his eyes cannot stare me down and yank the truth out of me. "Because I made it matter." "Why?"