Which future point will I make decisions at and have no-one questioning competency? Maybe I’m disabled but my brain is functioning, like, 94% of the time, at my roughest guess. So I make choices, or minors steps towards possible choices, and I tell you about it, you should understand the utter privilege of being included at all; I don’t talk to anyone, now. I mostly know better than that.
I retract my permission slip to let you sift slick your POV on to me. I know my mind only. You don’t know it. It’s a best guess, and you’re guessing badly, sorry.
When I actually do it, will you stop asking if the right thing is a thing I’m thinking? Of course I’ve thought about it. A snap decision is seeming the total desirable thing, because the fallout shock, someone just doing something you didn’t expect, you have to come to terms, digest the grief. But this draw-out of my own enduring, is what sets the judgement switch to on.
Your judging makes me sick. I love you, but I could vomit earlier, at the fat of the implication I wouldn’t do right or best.
Be me now. Qualify yourself to say. Or STFU.