got.daim
𝙰𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚐𝚎
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- Feb 28, 2024
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I explain only when the air feels patient and the walls don’t echo too loudly. I argue when the wind stops moving and the room agrees to forget what noise is. But mostly, I let the dumb speak to themselves, because their mouths run on something other than thought, and their words come out like static pretending to be sentences. I nod when nodding feels lighter than correcting, and I go quiet when the silence has more intelligence than the conversation. I answer only when the ceiling tiles rearrange themselves into something worth responding to, which is rarely. Their logic is furniture turned upside down, they sit in it proudly, unaware it doesn’t hold anything. I don’t waste breath on empty jars, and I don’t pour water into holes just to prove I have a cup. I let them talk in loops and I walk in straight lines, not because I’m better, but because I’ve learned the shape of futility. Some minds are not locked, they’re hollow. And shouting into them only proves you have lungs.
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