1 a : the process of forming an opinion or evaluation by discerning and comparing
b : an opinion or estimate so formed
b : the exercise of this capacity
3 a : a formal utterance of an authoritative opinion
Let’s free run this, shall we?
Judgement is…judgemental. Of you, of me, of us, of them. It’s mirrors and shops, it’s odours and fishnets. It’s coloured hair and grey hair. It’s size, both yours and mine. And theirs. It’s a sigh, an eyebrow, a silence that weighs on you like a wave about to crash when you can’t swim. It’s good or bad or uncertainties and every possible misstep in between. It’s tears, anger, the prelude to I can’t.
It’s declarative, certain, final. It’s internal, voices and not. It’s external on every advert that says this is what you should be but you’re not... It’s defence of love and indefensible words flung through the air like stale glitter. It is both acceptance and non acceptance; I accept you-me-us-them as less than, as wanting, and I refuse to accept, I non-accept, that your judgement of us all as less than, as wanting, is all we’ll ever be. It is divine, it is hell.
Perhaps it is the perfect animalistic habit; baseline, to judge as safe or unsafe, as food or not food. It is scrutiny and survival caught up around a tortilla wrap of instinct.
It is tiresome.