I wasn’t planning to write this today.
But you know how those daily writing prompts sneak up on you? Today’s question is, “What bothers you and why?”, and well… turns out the writing prompt works. Who knew? 😂
It got me thinking more about the things that used to bother me, the things I’ve let go of, and the one thing that still gnaws at me when I’m lying in bed at night, staring at the ceiling. The quiet amplifies it, those restless hours where the mind refuses to sleep, replaying the world’s chaos like a broken record. I was born with a knack for spotting the thing nobody else wanted to talk about. The problem behind the problem. The lie dressed up as truth. It’s a gift that feels more like a burden sometimes, like a sixth sense that picks up frequencies others tune out.
For most of my life, it’s felt a bit like standing in a field full of sheep, wondering why no one else hears the wolves in the trees. The air carries their howls, faint but unmistakable, yet the flock grazes on, oblivious. It’s a strange kind of loneliness, that. Not because you think you’re better, not because you enjoy being different, but because you can’t unsee what you’ve seen. It’s like waking up in a dream where everyone else is still asleep, their soft snores a reminder of the divide. I used to let many things bother me. Little stuff, like spilled coffee or a rude comment. Big stuff, like injustice I couldn’t fix. Other people’s nonsense, endless debates, petty dramas, the weight of their unexamined lives.
But over time, you learn to let most of it go. Everyone’s on their own path, stumbling through whatever lessons their soul signed up for. Some people wake up, one day, a crack of light breaks through their fog. Some stay asleep, content in the haze. Some are too afraid to even open one eye, clinging to the safety of ignorance like a child to a blanket. And that’s not my business anymore.
I’ve stopped playing the savior, stopped carrying the weight of their choices. It’s not my job to shake them awake or map their journey. But what still gets under my skin, what still scratches at the door some nights, is how many people don’t seem to see what’s happening in the world. Or worse, they see it and pretend not to. Corrupt governments, broken systems, shiny distractions designed to keep us docile, divided, and dependent.
It’s been going on forever, empires rise and fall, yet the same old tricks still work because it’s easier not to know. The news cycles churn with noise, the screens flicker with escapism, and the truth gets buried under a pile of likes and hashtags. And if you do know? Well then, you’re “difficult.”
You’re a “troublemaker.” You’re that one black sheep in the field full of white wool and blank stares. The odd one out, the voice that disrupts the hum of conformity.
I’ve felt the weight of those labels, the sidelong glances, the polite nods that say, “We’ll humor you, but don’t push too hard.” I’ve learned you can’t drag people out of the flock. You can’t shout them awake. You can’t make someone see what their soul isn’t ready to handle. It’s like trying to teach a fish to fly, beautiful in theory, futile in practice. And maybe it isn’t meant for everyone to wake up in this lifetime. I think some need the safety of the crowd, the comfort of not questioning the shepherd’s call. I’ve come to accept that, even if it stings. So I walk my own road now.
It’s narrower, less traveled, overgrown with the weeds of doubt at times, but it’s mine. I say what I need to say, where and when it feels right, sometimes in a whisper, sometimes with the force of a storm. I drop a truth bomb here and there and let the ripples land where they may, trusting the universe to carry them to those who are listening. I’ve stopped arguing with the willfully blind, and I no longer bleed energy trying to save people who don’t want saving.
And you know what? It’s peaceful out here on the edge of the field.
The air is clearer, the silence deeper. The lone sheep sees what the flock cannot: the crumbling arches of old systems, the shadows of wolves lurking beyond. And sometimes, that’s enough. Sometimes, the act of seeing, of standing firm in your truth, becomes its own reward. I carry that with me now, a quiet strength that doesn’t need validation from the herd.
So, tell me, what do you see that others don’t?
Share your thoughts below, and let’s walk this edge together.
UNDER THE WILL... OVER THE DRAMA... 
Leave a reply to Mae Faurel Cancel reply