There are times I forget that not everyone is like me.  There are more times I forget that is okay.
 
I despise passing judgment over people, and yet I do it.  Consistently whenever I’m aggravated I judge others, my friends, my co-workers, my family for how they choose to live their life.  It is not a good habit.  It is not even a habit I am aware of often, but the danger of being close to someone, or wanting to be close to someone, is that emotions continually get in the way.  My perception is skewered by what I feel, or want to feel, and I forget to look at things equally.  I still stand by my belief that assholes are assholes, but perhaps it is not my place to hate them for that.  Perhaps it is not my place to be angry with them for that.  I have only myself to blame.  Expecting someone to be something they are not is doomed to failure.  I know this and yet, I have done it.  When did I forget that to love someone is to accept him or her for all that s/he is?  Compromise is key but an asshole smiling is still an asshole.   It is not my place to judge that.  It is my choice to accept it or move away.
 
I don’t know if I can accept it.  And I’m not sure I have the strength to move away.  While I have moments I might fairly be described as a bitch and I would not say I’m an asshole.  I simply see no point in living if I’m not having fun.  That doesn’t mean I am unaware of what goes on around me.  That doesn’t mean I don’t know how hard life can be.  It means I choose enjoyment.  It means it is simply not in my nature to be an unhappy person. 
 
I cannot hate a person for what s/he is.  I cannot expect him or her to change on my or anyone else’s behalf.  I can be a friend.  I can put up with the crazy and the surly and the mood swings and the tears as long as I am able.  After that I don’t know.  I’ve maintained friendships that might seem odd, at the least, to an outside observer.  I suppose I just think everyone wants to be loved.  At some point I need to accept that not everyone wants to be loved by me. 
 
Maybe assholes aren’t assholes.  Maybe assholes are just assholes to me.  Hmm, nothing personal I hope.  But just as they shouldn’t change for me, I have no intention of changing for them.  I suppose I better find the strength to move away.