I turn on the shower. The routine is the same each day: I rinse in hot water to wake up, use body wash to clean, and then hop out and dry off.

Today however, I let the hot water beat onto my spine for an eternity while I think about why I shower. It isn’t about hygiene, but more about public appearance. I begin to realize I subconsciously care about what kids at school think of me. Otherwise, I would get into basketball shorts and a t-shirt every day and stroll to school in a daze. I wouldn’t care about showering, wearing deodorant, or spraying cologne. I do have a personal compulsion to keep up with my peers’ impressions of me.

Who in my large group of friends would want to associate with someone who just rolled out of bed and walked into school?

As I ponder these strange social expectations, I make a correction to myself. I do not have a large group of friends. Although I am friendly with hundreds of people every day, I have only a few true brothers. To me, a friend is someone who would put their interests and life on the line to help a friend in need. My real friends are my family right now.

If you look at the people you say “wudup” to every day, how many of them would fight with you? How many would be willing to die with you?

So while I’m at school or at a party you may think you know me as a kidder or a clown, but none of you know shit about shit. If you think I’m all fun and games, you’re not my friend. You’re not my family. You’re just an outsider who I shower for every morning. Who I look in the mirror for every morning to make sure I look like I did the day before. I mean absolutely nothing to you, so don’t judge me. Because I’m not willing to die for you when I could live with my brothers.

The hot water runs out and I turn off the shower. I grab my towel hanging over the glass door and dry off. I walk past the mirror and into my room because I know who I am. I don’t need a piece of glass or an outsider to try to tell me otherwise.