No one who is full of himself feels empty.
They seem plentiful.
They talk a lot, take up space and have an opinion on everything. At first glance, they seem almost overflowing with life.
And then you look a little longer.
And you start to notice that nothing gets in. What they say was before you even walked into the house. The world around them leaves no trace. not about you Not your silence. Not what’s happening outside the window.
Everything bounces off.
It is nothing to take.
It is not the emptiness of someone who has nothing. It is the emptiness of one who fills himself so much that there is no room left for anything else. Not for another person. Not for doubt. Not for change.
Not, ultimately, for themselves.
Because what they call themselves has long since ceased to exist.
became a fortress.
You see it before you say what you see.
You see the way the conversation goes nowhere. That way, the person in front of you doesn’t hear you, even while listening. That little fatigue remains after that meeting, not because it was difficult, but because nothing actually happened.
The saddest thing is that these people don’t suffer.
Or they do not know that they suffer.
In their world, things are mostly good. They are full. What else do they need?
Maybe just a crack.
a doubt
one, i don’t know
Someone else’s pain that can move them.
But there is no crack.
