The Judgment is coming to get you.  Especially if you are a woman.  It is coming to tell you how fat you are, how skinny you are to be, how nice you are to be, how too nice you really are, how much like ______ you are being, how you don’t fit in, how much of a bitch you are, how your kids aren’t being raised correctly, how you are in an industry that is not acceptable, how Late you are (in so many ways—your eggs will dry up soon, you are too old to ever be ______ at this point, oh you are doing/wearing/saying THAT??—that is SO last year), how confused you are (perhaps there is truth in that, being the fact that there is so much judgment floating around), HOW HOW HOW…no rest.  It just cannot be.  The worst of course is being All Woman, and carrying your strength, because that cannot be handled.  It must be held back in this notion of insecurity, this notion of Others (read: men) telling you how to dress, and what to say, and what to FEEL and what to do (big and small and not always on the surface)…and you come in with your big heart and think you can change it all, and nurture something back to life that has died or perhaps is just very, very angry.  But no matter your love can conquer all.  Even though it is not your role—you will make it your role.  Because God damn it somebody has to take a stand.  It is you!  You are IT!  Then judgment shifts. Like a large, correcting device.  One that you did not invent, one that you do not care to align with as it goes against what you know in your heart is unique and special, but one that keeps the masses in line so that all Things are easily seduced.  And you walk the line between what is real that you have an idea for and what is being taught is acceptable.  So what is real gets forgotten.  As judgment makes the middle ground legit.  The fringes grow dark as they forget.  They conform in a grasp for normalcy.  Because to be anything else means execution.