Some people say they care—and then go on with their lives, completely oblivious to what’s really happening.

They say the words, but they don’t ask questions.
They assume they know you, but they have no idea who you actually are.
And when you reach out and there is no response, that silence speaks volumes.

Over the past year, I’ve discovered how many people are like this.

People who perform kindness but never practice it.
People who call themselves Christian yet show no curiosity, compassion, or presence.
People who collect Facebook friends like trophies.
People who constantly seek attention but give very little back.
People who want to be admired, who say the right thing in public—but never do the right thing when it matters.

The list goes on.

What’s changed isn’t them.
It’s me.

As I heal, my vision sharpens. I notice patterns I once excused. I see the difference between words and actions. Between performative care and real presence. Between people who like the idea of being good—and people who actually show up.

Healing doesn’t make you harder.
It makes you clearer.

You stop chasing validation.
You stop explaining your pain to people who benefit from not understanding it.
You stop confusing proximity with connection.

And most importantly, you stop mistaking silence for innocence.

This is what healing is.
Not bitterness. Not judgment.
Just clarity.

And with clarity comes peace—because you finally know who is real, who is capable, and who was never meant to walk with you any further.