We Really Don’t Know

Sometimes I wonder when we all decided we were mind readers. We scroll, we watch, we assume. We fill in the blanks of someone else’s life like we’re writing their story for them.

But here’s the truth. No one knows what went on in my life this week. Not one person. When I sat across from my counselor, she just looked at me and said, “You can’t make this stuff up.” I laughed, but she was right. You couldn’t. The week had been one long collision of heartbreak, chaos, and grace.

Still, I know I’m not the only one with a life that could be a movie some weeks. Everyone I know is carrying something heavy, something invisible. A heartbreak. A fear. A fight they never signed up for. And yet, we keep pretending we understand each other. We project, we compete, we perform. Somewhere along the way, empathy slipped quietly out the door and ego took its place. We stopped really seeing people and started assuming their stories.

It’s strange how fast we rush to judgment and how rarely we pause to ask why. We scroll past someone’s post and convince ourselves we know the plot. But we don’t. We never do. Maybe it’s time to stop assuming and start listening. To offer kindness without conditions. To remember that everyone, everywhere, is fighting something we cannot see.

And maybe, just maybe, the real story isn’t what’s happening in someone else’s life. It’s how we choose to show up in ours. Because in the end, maybe we don’t need to read people’s minds.

Maybe we just need to open our hearts