You think… if you explain enough,
if you lay your heart bare enough,
if you open every page of your soul and let them read—
maybe they’ll understand.
Maybe they’ll see the nights you didn’t sleep,
the weight you’ve been carrying,
the reasons behind every choice you made.

But no.
Some people don’t want to understand.
They don’t want truth—
they want agreement.
They want you to bend,
to nod,
to shrink yourself so your thoughts fit neatly in the small box they’ve built for their comfort.

You could bleed in front of them,
and they’d call it theatrics.
You could hand them your truth, trembling in your palms,
and they’d call it an excuse.
Because in their minds,
they’ve already judged you—
and judgement rarely listens.

And that’s the part that hurts.
Not that they disagree,
but that they refuse to even try to see you.
It’s like talking to a wall…
except walls don’t look you in the eye while pretending to care.
They nod while loading their next argument.
They smile while sharpening the knife.
They ask questions,
but only to find the gaps where they can twist the blade deeper.

And so you start to see the truth:
It doesn’t matter how lengthy your reason is,
how honest, how raw,
how much it costs you to speak—
to a closed mind, your words are already worthless.

Matthew 13:15 says it best:
“For this people’s heart has grown dull,
and with their ears they can barely hear,
and their eyes they have closed,
lest they should see with their eyes
and hear with their ears
and understand with their heart
and turn, and I would heal them.”

That’s it, isn’t it?
They’ve closed their eyes,
shut their ears,
sealed their hearts.
Not because your truth is wrong—
but because understanding you
would require them to change.
And change…
is something their pride will never allow.

And you know what’s worse?
Sometimes you catch yourself still trying.
Still hoping—
that maybe this time…
maybe this one last explanation will break through the cracks.
You tell yourself,
"If I just choose the right words,
if I just speak softer,
if I make them see my humanity…"

But every attempt feels like throwing pearls into a pit.
They don’t see value—
they see something to trample on.
And the more you speak,
the more they turn your reasons into ammunition,
until even your honesty is used against you.

They’ll twist your intentions.
They’ll retell your story like they were the victim.
And soon, you’ll watch strangers believe their version of you—
a stranger painted in lies—
while you stand there, screaming silently behind the glass.

It breaks you in ways you can’t put into words.
Not just because they refuse to understand,
but because you realize—
you’ve been trying to convince people
who never had the decency to see you as a person in the first place.

Proverbs 18:2 cuts deep:
“A fool takes no pleasure in understanding,
but only in expressing his opinion.”

And suddenly, it clicks—
They were never listening.
They were only waiting for their turn to speak.

So I stop.
Not because I’ve run out of truth,
but because I’ve run out of energy to waste on the deaf.
I do not need to explain myself to you.
I will let my silence speak for itself.
Sometimes, I believe the best silence heard
is loud enough and clear enough to be heard.

So let them think what they want.
Let them keep their tiny world,
their locked doors,
their dim lights.

Because I’ve learned—
you don’t beg blind eyes to see,
and you don’t plead with deaf ears to hear.
The truth doesn’t shrink just because someone refuses to hold it.
And my worth?
It doesn’t depend on the size of their understanding.

I will not waste another breath
trying to explain myself to people
who have already decided
what I am in their story.

I’m not here to fit in their narrative.
I’m here to write my own.