Don't shoot the Dead Canary

I see someone close to me sprinting as fast as she can towards a wall - a dead end - and I am not supposed to say anything.

Apparently I have to stand on the sidelines and mutely watch this possibly fatal crash take place. In other words, I have to play the part of impotent bystander even though it is plain to me she is blind to what she is heading into. If I do try to stop this FOR SURE head-on-collision or madly gesticulate to try and get her attention then I am a meddler, a hater, a “drama queen”, a bitch or maybe I'm simply "jealous". Since she does not see the dead-end as I do, she cannot understand what I'm carrying on about. I thus must be the crazy one and not her.

It must be one of the most frustrating predicaments a human being can find herself – to know with utter certainty that disaster is ahead but no one will listen least of whom the inevitable victim. Everyone ridicules you and says you are the wing nut and you’re just paranoid – you and your conspiracy theories, always looking for the negative in any positive. “BUT IT’S A FALSE POSITIVE!” I scream to no avail.

Ultimately, however, I cannot live someone else’s mistakes, which is not a condemnation or a judgment, as I am acutely aware of my own mistakes. So I talk myself from the edge of hypocrisy and outrage and back away from the cliff. It is not my business no matter how much I think I have invested in it or how close it is to my heart. 

What then am I left to do, other than stand on the sidelines as requested, watch it happen, and call the ambulance when it does?

I wrote a poem:

There's a well-trodden path to nowhere,

Traversed every day by girls just like you.

And no matter the heartaches they share there,

It’s something they'll continue to do.

You won't see the veterans as you walk by,

With their souls amputated and scarred.

There's no hope for them, as they're waiting to die,

But for you, your future has not yet been marred.

They'll warn you in vain of danger ahead,

But your deaf, foolish ego won't hear,

With ears muffled by fairy tales you've read,

And still too naive to be critical or have fear.

The fear will come later on down the road though;

This can be promised as sure as the night will fall,

When the wise have given up what they know,

And you’ll forget you were ever warned at all.