You don’t owe me. Anything. You don’t owe me cookies or follow backs or thumbs up or anything. 

I like to think I’m a nice person who tries hard. I like to think I’m a decent human being. 

But you don’t owe me trust. I’ll earn it or I won’t. And if I don’t, because maybe you need to save what trust you have for other people, because you need to take care of you, that’s a good thing. 

You don’t owe me forgiveness if I fuck up. I will fuck up. Have fucked up. I’ll try my damndest to really, really get it and say sorry and fix what’s broken about me, try to educate myself so I’m not dangerous and hurtful and offensive and angering and saddening and disappointing to people who don’t deserve that crap. But even if I say the most heartful “I’m sorry” ever, I know you don’t owe me a damn thing. 

You don’t owe me your time or attention. I hope I say things worth listening to, I definitely appreciate when people listen and respond to me and say “I liked that” or “right on!”. But you know what? There’s a lot of voices in the world. And if you need to save your attention for others, or if you just don’t find me interesting or worth listening to? That’s just fine. 

You don’t owe me your space, online or meatspace or in your mind or anywhere else. You have the right to tell me to get the fuck out as nicely or loudly and “rudely” as you feel like. 

You don’t owe me an education. If I don’t know something, I obviously have the ability to google and get my ass to wikipedia at the very least. And even if I didn’t, I have so many privileges. So maybe I can even bother to get my backside into a library or find a book or hell, just sit and try to use context clues to figure it out. I’m glad when people answer questions, when they explain something if I’ve messed up or don’t get it. But that can get exhausting for people. But even if you have all the energy and time in the world, you still don’t owe me. Your time is yours and if you wanna use it to paint your nails and drink booze and dance and play dollmaking games or going out with friends instead of dealing with me, that’s totally your right and I honor it. My question marks are just question marks, they’re not demands, they’re not open hands and a foot tapping and me looking impatient. They’re just questions. Feel free at any and all times to tell me to deal with myself BY myself. Or even just to go straight to hell or any other infernal places I may deserve to go to.

And you don’t owe me politeness or soft words or gentle dealing or kid gloves or anything else. You don’t owe me communication on my terms, especially where I’m privileged and you aren’t. If you need to yell at me because I’m being difficult, or just because you wanna yell, that’s perfectly all right. 

And you certainly don’t owe me instant love or respect or adulation just for doing basic decent things. Woohoo, I recognized that racism is bad. I went and collected a fellow white/cis/U.S./etc person. Woopdie fuckin doo. 

Most of all, you don’t owe me.

Because you are valuable and worthwhile and your time and energies are yours and your survival is fucking vital and important. Because I don’t want interacting with me to be unpleasant or difficult for you, especially if I’m the privileged one. 

And if the time comes where I ever make you feel like you are my debtor in anyway?

You have ever right to call me out, shut me down, cuss me up the wall, block me, ignore me, or just generally tell me how you feel about it. 

And me? I’ll owe YOU then. 

Thanks, that’s all.