You don’t know anything about me. 
You haven’t walked the path I’ve walked.
You haven’t spent hours, days, weeks, months, or years in my shoes to tell me about myself. 
You have not been through any trials I’ve been through that have molded me into who I am. 
You don’t matter, your opinion means nothing.
How could you seem so nice and open your arms with criticism?
Next time I’ll close the door when it comes to making new friends.
I should be able to be me, myself, be free. 
You don’t know who I am. 
You don’t know anything about me.