Never mind

What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.

“From anger arises delusion; from delusion, confusion of memory; from confusion of memory, the destruction of intelligence; and when intelligence is destroyed, one perishes.” — Bhagavad Gita

The question I hate the most is not loud.It does not come like a slap.It does not arrive with shouting or rage.It arrives softly.“Never mind.”Those two words crawl like a cold snake across the floor of the mind.Never mind.At first it sounds polite, almost kind, like someone placing a blanket over a mistake. But beneath the blanket is a quiet burial. A slow burial of effort, of thought, of spirit.Never mind.The words do not end the conversation.

They suffocate it.I remember the moment the wind came.A strange gust slipped through the back of my neck like icy fingers. It traveled upward like an invisible blade and entered my left eye—sharp, piercing, not pain but a sensation of something watching from the other side of the curtain of reality.The eye watered.The mind trembled.Because “never mind” is not just a phrase. It is a weapon used by those who have already surrendered their own minds.

They use it to push another person toward a wall.Speak.Try.Explain.And every word hits the wall.Never mind.The wall becomes taller.Never mind.Soon the person stops speaking. Stops trying. Stops believing their words have weight in the world.That is the true violence of invisibility.

No shouting.

No blood.

Just the slow crushing of another person’s will until they doubt themselves.The people who use it most often are not the poor or the broken.They are the comfortable ones.The rich faces.The respected names.The ones praised in their circles.They sit in beautiful houses, wearing their polished smiles like crowns. They believe their lives are perfect mirrors reflecting success.

Yet behind their words lives a strange emptiness.Never mind.They think it means control.But it is only the echo of their own surrendered mind.Because when a person says “never mind,” they are secretly announcing something else:

“I have already given up.”

And once a person gives up on themselves, they want company.So they push others toward the same cliff.Speak less.Try less.Think less.Never mind.The vicious cycle begins.

One defeated mind infects another.Another repeats the same phrase to the next.A chain of quiet surrender stretching across conversations, families, offices, streets.

Until the world becomes full of people politely abandoning their own minds.But sometimes the game turns.Sometimes the wall reflects the voice back to its owner.The phrase returns like a mirror.Never mind.And suddenly the one who spoke it first hears their own emptiness echoing in the silence.That is when the cold wind comes again.A sharp gust through the neck.

The sting in the left eye.A reminder that the unseen battlefield of the mind never forgets.And the guat sharp eye from the other side is nothing mystical at all.It is only vengeance circling back in the endless mind war between shadows—like Rathe and Xandra—trapped forever in the vicious cycle of “never mind.”