A Word For The Wise

A Word For The Wise

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Standing in that building. Alone. Staring at all the other people under the tent. Shielding themselves from the rain. Seeing the miserable look on their faces. I had never felt so hopeless before. I was speechless. These people sought comfort from each other. But they could find no comfort within my words. I was nothing if not serious. I couldn’t just stand there and lie to them. I would be honest or I would be silent. So I stayed silent. Everyone thought I was upset and maybe I was. But I just couldn’t seem to mutter out a word. I didn’t feel so wise then. And no matter how many times I might joke about it.. I don’t feel very wise right now either. I say these things, hoping people might listen to them. But I could never expect them to. Many times I had failed. But usually then the stakes are much worse than a broken heart. 

I hate that I’m considered the wise one. I don’t have anything to offer people except reminders of my own pain. That’s the only reason the words I speak seem so understandable. Because I had experienced these things. Things that I wish I could do nothing more than leave behind in the past. And I’m absolutely terrified that because of this I will not be able to have the future that I’ve always wanted. Perhaps we all have a fear similar to this. Driving us insane, to the point we forget who we are and we have to depend on others to remind us. I want nothing more than to be able to share these fears with someone. But I don’t. Even I have things that I cannot even write on paper. I don’t want to risk losing someone I care about over something I had gone through years ago. 

I wish I were quiet still. I wish I could be none of the things that people notice. I wish I weren’t good with leadership. Or with writing. Or music. I would be an entirely different person. And maybe then I wouldn’t have to feel so afraid of driving every person in my life away. I mean, who would want to know someone that is falling apart at the seams? I don’t let them find out. And when they get too close I push them away. I can’t keep people around. They might know. Even if I wanted them to know. I might just change the way they think of me. They might pity me. And I can’t stand the thought of that. The idea that they might only stay and talk to me just because they feel bad ruins every good thought in my mind. 

Every time I think I can trust someone, I am proven wrong. I am so tired of being wrong. Of falling for people’s excuses. They need to be around me. Only so that I can help them and I am sick of it. I am sick of being their tool, constantly used and overworked. Given nothing in return. I do things for a reason. Every thing I say or do has some motive or reasoning behind it. Except for one thing.. But that’s not important right now. Not anymore.

I told myself I wouldn’t look anymore. I wouldn’t allow myself to get close to someone enough that I could trust them. I would do other things, like write, learn new music, travel. Plenty of other things to keep me occupied.  That’s the first reason as to why I did marching band this past season. I needed a distraction. And for a while it worked. Until a competition day. I found myself getting sidetracked from my marching and I was getting called out on it. Not a good time to be messing up warm ups. I could hear the percussion in the distance. I normally could ignore them just fine. Us playing different pieces at two different tempos wasn’t easy, but not impossible either. But it had nothing to do with the music. Not at all. 

I thought I had everything under control. Just like always. I had everything planned, I knew exactly what I wanted. And nothing was going to get in the way of that. Until now. I don’t mean to make it sound like it’s a burden on me. It isn’t. But even so, because of this, so many things have changed. And it may have been all for nothing. I do still hope, that none of this was in vain. But each day I grow more weary. And I’ll be honest. I don’t know what to do. I can’t just tell you every single thought I have in my head. But I don’t want to lie to you either. Can’t you see it now? I’m not as wise as you think I am. I constantly don’t know what I’m doing and I’m afraid that one day people are going to notice and leave because of it. Such stupid thoughts, right? For someone so “wise” shouldn’t I have more to say? To others and let alone myself? Not this time. I have nothing left to say to you or to me. So here is a word for the wise. I’m not one of you.

I don’t know why I bothered with writing any of this. This isn’t what is truly on my mind. But if I write about it, wouldn’t I just be repeating the same thing over and over again? Nobody wants to listen to that now do they? And I can’t say much. But I just kinda wish I could hug someone. I just feel like breaking down. That maybe for once it wouldn’t be so bad. Because right now everything aches. My soul aches. I think all of this was just me wasting my own time.. I have nothing to say. Not anymore.