Why was I given this mind that sees what others ignore?
Is it a blessing… or a burden?
I sit here, quiet, apart—not because I dislike people, but because I feel too much. I see too deeply. I notice the cracks in what others call whole. While the world runs fast, I walk slow—stopping to question, to wonder, to ache.
They call me strange, lost in thought, disconnected. But how can I explain that I feel more connected than most? Connected to the pain beneath laughter, to the silence behind every noise. I carry a weight—and that weight is purpose.
Not the kind that earns applause. Not the one that fills bank accounts. But the kind that wakes you at night and whispers, “You were made to change something.”
Not for glory. But for good.
You see, the world teaches us to fit in, to succeed, to chase comfort. But those of us with deeper sight—we are asked for something else. We are asked to stay awake, even when it hurts. To speak truths, even when it isolates us. To dream of a world that could be, while living in a world that isn’t.
And that… is heavy.
Sometimes I wonder—what if I could just unsee?
What if I could live easily, laugh freely, move on without carrying the weight of every injustice, every unspoken sadness?
But then—who would stand for the quiet ones?
Who would notice the beauty hidden in decay, or the wisdom buried in silence?
Who would plant seeds in the soil of forgotten dreams?
Perhaps this burden was never meant to crush me,
but to carve me—
to shape me into someone capable of holding light in the darkest places.
Maybe my place is not in the center of noise,
but on the edge—watching, waiting, whispering.
Maybe my gift is not to join the crowd,
but to remind the crowd of what they’ve forgotten.
And so, I sit.
Not idle, not lost—
but present, awake, listening to the world with my soul.
I may never be understood by many,
but if I can spark truth in just one heart,
if I can bring peace to even one restless mind—
then the weight I carry… was worth it.
Because perhaps the weight of purpose is not meant to be lifted,
but carried—
with courage,
with love,
and with the quiet knowing
that we were made to matter.