2d
As Eleanor Roosevelt once said,
“Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people.”
And I often wonder—
why are people always like that?
Why do some people find more joy in tearing others down than lifting them up?
Why is it so easy to become the topic of their conversation,
when all you’re doing is staying quiet,
trying to survive,
trying to build a life they know nothing about?
They talk like they know me.
Like they’ve read every chapter of my story.
But in truth, they only skim the surface—
the part where I succeeded,
never the part where I suffered.
They never saw the nights I wrestled with anxiety.
They didn’t hear the prayers I whispered while everyone else was asleep.
They didn’t feel the weight I carried on my back—expectations, fears, distractions,
all while pretending I was fine.
No.
They see the medals.
They see the passing score.
They see the result.
And suddenly, everyone has something to say.
Some cheer.
Some pretend to cheer.
Some wait for the next failure.
But I’ve learned this:
The smaller the mind, the louder the mouth.
Small minds need someone else to talk about,
because they’ve got nothing going on within themselves.
And so they latch onto people like me.
People who work in silence.
People who strive in private.
People who don't show their wounds.
They say, “You’ve changed.”
But they never ask, “What changed you?”
The truth?
It’s not that I’ve changed—
it’s that I’ve outgrown the noise.
The noise of gossip, of doubt, of empty chatter.
I’ve outgrown the need to explain myself to people
who never cared to understand in the first place.
And to be honest,
I no longer feel the urge to correct the stories they tell about me.
Let them talk.
Let them speculate.
Let them choke on their own narratives.
Because while they were busy talking about people,
I was talking to God.
While they were picking apart lives,
I was building mine.
While they laughed at my silence,
I was surviving in it.
So yes—
as Eleanor Roosevelt said,
great minds talk about ideas.
About purpose. Vision. Growth.
And that’s where I’m keeping my mind.
Not on the people who drain me.
Not on the opinions that don’t pay my bills
or heal my soul.
Let them whisper.
Let them watch.
Because no matter what they say,
I know what I’ve been through.
And God knows too.
“Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people.”
And I often wonder—
why are people always like that?
Why do some people find more joy in tearing others down than lifting them up?
Why is it so easy to become the topic of their conversation,
when all you’re doing is staying quiet,
trying to survive,
trying to build a life they know nothing about?
They talk like they know me.
Like they’ve read every chapter of my story.
But in truth, they only skim the surface—
the part where I succeeded,
never the part where I suffered.
They never saw the nights I wrestled with anxiety.
They didn’t hear the prayers I whispered while everyone else was asleep.
They didn’t feel the weight I carried on my back—expectations, fears, distractions,
all while pretending I was fine.
No.
They see the medals.
They see the passing score.
They see the result.
And suddenly, everyone has something to say.
Some cheer.
Some pretend to cheer.
Some wait for the next failure.
But I’ve learned this:
The smaller the mind, the louder the mouth.
Small minds need someone else to talk about,
because they’ve got nothing going on within themselves.
And so they latch onto people like me.
People who work in silence.
People who strive in private.
People who don't show their wounds.
They say, “You’ve changed.”
But they never ask, “What changed you?”
The truth?
It’s not that I’ve changed—
it’s that I’ve outgrown the noise.
The noise of gossip, of doubt, of empty chatter.
I’ve outgrown the need to explain myself to people
who never cared to understand in the first place.
And to be honest,
I no longer feel the urge to correct the stories they tell about me.
Let them talk.
Let them speculate.
Let them choke on their own narratives.
Because while they were busy talking about people,
I was talking to God.
While they were picking apart lives,
I was building mine.
While they laughed at my silence,
I was surviving in it.
So yes—
as Eleanor Roosevelt said,
great minds talk about ideas.
About purpose. Vision. Growth.
And that’s where I’m keeping my mind.
Not on the people who drain me.
Not on the opinions that don’t pay my bills
or heal my soul.
Let them whisper.
Let them watch.
Because no matter what they say,
I know what I’ve been through.
And God knows too.
