They have no idea what I have. What diagnoses, what realities I have lived thru or live with. None whatsoever. They think they know. So much. Grace lets them. Till they get there. Till something personal rapes their comprehension into compassion.
Just for the record, what I write about isn't necessarily going on at that time. It may be something that I have or have not ever experienced. That's the beautiful thing about writing. It's open to interpretation.