Experts in Things We Never Touched
We speak in bullet points carved out of fear. We echo the headlines, the half-read articles, the memes that said what we were too tired to question. We spit out statistics like prayers we don’t believe in numbers sharp enough to wound, but never sharp enough to open anything real.
We stand on soapboxes built from hearsay. We swing swords made of guesswork. We crown ourselves scholars of anger and architects of judgment all while barely brushing the surface of what we claim to understand.
It’s easier this way easier to nod along, easier to pretend that knowing is a look, or a tone, or a flood of clever words thrown fast enough to stun the other side into silence.
We are brilliant in our ignorance. Artists of certainty without substance. Loud, flashing empires of assumption.
Meanwhile, the truth waits not screaming, not begging, not branding itself in neon. It waits in the quiet work, the long study, the questions that take years to unfold.
It waits while we burn our voices on fires we never stopped to understand.
One day If we are lucky we will sit down at empty tables, with empty hands, and say, simply
I don’t know. But I want to.
And maybe that will be the beginning of something worth building.