Sometimes we don’t need to hear that we’re all sitting at the same base camp. We’re all in this together. I know how you feel. Oh yeah, me too. What’s the point when you’re the one who asked “what’s wrong?” Sometimes we don’t need to hear that. Sometimes we need to stand on our own mountains and scream “All of this fucking sucks,” and listen as the echo fades into the distance. Send your message far and wide. Let everyone know and let them decide what to do with the information you provided.
Some people will tell you to shut the fuck up. Some people will empathize and say a prayer. And yes, some will say “me, too.” And it’s fine. The options that are on the table are fine. It’s fine to do any number of things that qualify as basic human interaction. But if you scale your mountain again, only to shout the same thing you shouted two days ago, people will begin to tune out. Some will stay and hang on your every word, of course, but they shouldn’t be your backbone nor foundation. People like that will scatter to the wind the moment you say something out of line. But many will leave. They may even have some choice words for you as they go, but they’ve already decided not to hitch a line to your wagon. There’s no need to stay at a party that’s not changing the music.
But you can’t know that everyone has left. People vote with their feet. They just won’t show up anymore. So the burden falls on you to grow tired of your own echo, and know when it has run out. You don’t need it to find you again, especially if it’s been burned into your memory. Find a new song, a new lyric, some new record to ripple through the valleys. Something that’s pleasant to a growing number of people’s ears, as long as you’re the one who enjoys it first and foremost. That way, the climb up the toughest parts of your mountain won’t be as bothersome the second time around.