It\'s almost impressive
how quickly we decide
who someone is.
One glance.
One rumor.
One bad day.
And suddenly--
\"She\'s quiet.\"
So she must be cold.
\"He\'s confident.\"
So he must never doubt himself.
\"They messed up once.\"
So that must be who they are.
We take a single thread
and stitch a whole personality out of it.
Call it instinct.
Call it efficiency.
Call it knowing.
It saves time.
Time we would\'ve spent
asking questions.
Listening is inconvenient.
It risks being wrong.
And sometimes
we\'re right just enough
to feel justified.
That\'s the dangerous part.
Because a fraction of truth
can masquerade
as the whole thing.
I\'ve watched it happen
in hallways
where names travel faster than facts.
I\'ve watched it happen
in comment sections
where strangers reduce each other
to profile pictures.
I\'ve watched it happen
in mirrors.
\"I failed.\"
So I am a failure.
\"I\'m too much.\"
So I should shrink.
\"They left.\"
So I must not be worth staying for.
One moment
becomes a verdict.
No appeal.
No context.
No sequel.
It\'s strange;
how loyal we are
to the first version
of a story we hear.
We defend it.
We build on it.
We live inside it.
Even when it doesn\'t fit.
Maybe the danger
isn\'t the story itself.
Maybe it\'s deciding
it\'s the only one.