I don't drive.

I don't drive. 
I don't know how. 
Sure, I know the basics...
but that doesn't stop the crippling responsibility that comes when I'm in the driver's seat.  

No, I didn't ask for your opinion. 
Nor did I ask for a solution. 
When you voice your fears, 
do I provide unwarranted advice for how to get over it?

"You don't drive?"
Head cocked and eyebrow raised. 
The judgemental stare
letting me know, without saying more, that you disapprove. 

No, I didn't ask for your sanction. 
Nor did I ask for your sympathy. 
All I ask is that you don't look at me like an outcast, 
just because 
I don't drive.