people who seek advice, don't actually need it.

you already have the answer. you just want someone else to validate it, so you don’t have to be the first one to believe in you.

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Some people ask for advice like they’re lost, but really, they just want someone else to carry the blame if it all goes wrong. Advice isn’t always about direction -it’s often about permission. And I think that’s what people are really looking for. When you’re an observer, like me, you tend to see things more clearly. It’s like reading a book -you’re not really part of the story, but you watch it unfold and create your own quiet reflections. I’ve noticed that most of the time, the people around me aren’t looking for answers. They’re just waiting for someone else to validate a decision they’ve already made in silence. You’re probably thinking, “That’s not true. When I ask my friend if I should choose this or that, I genuinely can’t decide.” Yeah, well -that’s a whole load of crap, most of the time. You know what you want. You’re just hesitant to take full responsibility for it. Asking someone else gives you space to avoid that uncomfortable moment later -when you regret something and need somewhere to aim the blame. Let me explain. Here’s the easiest example I can think of. Imagine you’re buying something -honestly, anything. A phone. You’re standing there with two in your hands: white titanium and black titanium. You start thinking about what color matches your outfits more. Then your brain spirals -will it match your apartment? your other devices? (Side note: I can’t comprehend this kind of thinking, like, get over it. You’ll probably buy a new one in a heartbeat the second you can anyway.) So a few long minutes go by, and your very bored friend is standing next to you. You turn and ask them, “What do you think?”. They roll their eyes and say, “Flip a coin.” That sounds like a great idea, right? Until the coin is in the air… and you’re silently hoping it lands on the side that meant choosing the white one. So what’s the point? You know what you want. You just don’t want to take the blame if it turns out to be the wrong choice. And that’s a you problem. You need to trust yourself in order to choose right.

And then there’s the other kind of moment. You’re at some party you didn’t even want to be at. Music’s too loud, the kitchen’s sticky, your drink’s warm.
You’re standing alone, zoning out, pretending you’re busy checking your phone. Then, someone tipsy enough to lose shame but sober enough to speak finds you.
And suddenly -you’re their therapist. "Can I ask you something?" You nod, out of politeness. Mistake. They launch into a story. Dramatic. Endless. You’re not even sure when the question is supposed to come in. They talk and talk, their hands slicing the air, eyes looking right through you. You try to follow, but honestly? You lost the plot two minutes ago. You open your mouth to say something -but they cut you off. They don’t need your input. They’re answering themselves, mid-sentence. Debating both sides. Arguing with imaginary people.
Building and breaking their own case right there in front of you. And after ten long minutes of this mental ping-pong match, they sigh. Relieved. Lighter.

"Thank you," they say, patting your shoulder.
"You always know exactly what to say. You’ve helped me so much."

You didn’t even say anything. But sure. You’re welcome. They’re not asking for advice. They’re building their own echo chamber, right there in the middle of the kitchen, using your silence as confirmation.

---

The thing is, everyone wants confirmation. They want you to nod along, tell them they’re doing the right thing, tell them they’re smart for already deciding what they’ve decided. Advice, most of the time, isn’t about learning anything new. It’s about searching for someone who’ll reflect back the answer you’re already clutching onto with white knuckles. And if you dare to say something that doesn’t match what they secretly hoped for? Suddenly you’re the bad guy. You’re "unsupportive." You "don’t get it." Because the truth is, they didn’t come to you looking for guidance -they came looking for a permission slip. I see it happen all the time. A friend asks you what you think about their new job offer.
You tell them honestly, that maybe it’s not the best move, maybe they should hold out for something better. And watch how fast the atmosphere shifts. The energy stiffens, like you just insulted their child or their taste in music. They weren’t asking for your real opinion. They were asking you to bless the choice they’d already made at 2 a.m. lying awake in bed. It’s funny. And a little sad. Because we think we’re looking for clarity when we’re really just looking for approval.
We say, "I need your advice," but what we mean is, "Tell me what I want to hear, so I can stop doubting myself." Maybe that's why so many conversations feel exhausting.
Because deep down, we all know when we're not actually being asked for our thoughts -we're just being used as a mirror someone else needs to survive their own uncertainty.

It’s easy to sit here and point fingers. But I’m not innocent either. I’ve stood there too, pretending to look for clarity, when really, I just wanted someone else to carry the weight of the answer I already knew. Sometimes it feels easier to borrow courage than to build it yourself. I catch myself doing it more often than I’d like to admit. Asking a friend, "Do you think I should go for it?" when the truth is, I already decided hours ago while lying on my floor staring at the ceiling.
I already made up my mind. I just wanted someone else to sprinkle a little bit of validation on top, like powdered sugar on something half-baked. And honestly, it’s not even about the advice. It’s about fear. Fear of getting it wrong. Fear of taking responsibility if it crashes and burns. Fear of being the only one to blame when it doesn’t turn out perfect. But the thing about decisions -and I’m slowly learning this -is that the crash and burn moments? They come whether someone else nods along with you or not. You can gather a hundred opinions, a thousand safety nets, and still fall flat on your face. And that’s okay. At least it’s your fall. Your risk. Your story. But if you keep needing someone else’s blessing every time you move, it’s not really your story at all. It’s just a stitched-together version of everyone else's fears, doubts, and half-hearted opinions. Choosing for yourself even when you’re wrong is what sharpens you. It’s what builds your taste, your character, your instincts. It’s the only way you get to look at your life later and actually recognize yourself in it.

---

At some point, you have to ask yourself:
why are you still waiting for someone else to give you the permission to live your own life? Why are you giving so much of your power away, asking for validation at every turn, as if someone else knows you better than you know yourself? It’s crazy how much energy we invest in looking for external approval -seeking signs, waiting for a green light. But the truth is: there’s no one better at knowing what’s right for you than you. No one else can truly feel your heartbeat, understand your quiet moments, or know what makes you come alive in a way that you do. Yet we all get trapped in this cycle of needing validation, like we’re supposed to seek answers from someone outside ourselves. And when you keep seeking that external affirmation, it becomes a habit. It feels safe. You begin to think, if I can just hear it from someone else, I’ll finally feel sure. But that surety? It doesn’t come from other people. It comes from you. I get it -trusting yourself isn’t easy. It’s so much easier to rely on others, to let them take the responsibility of our choices. It’s like, if you choose wrong, at least you can blame someone else for it. It’s easier to walk the path of least resistance and let others do the heavy lifting. But imagine, just for a second, what would happen if you trusted your own instincts as fiercely as you trust the opinions of others. What if you stopped waiting for everyone’s approval before making a move? What if you didn’t let someone else’s perspective cloud what you already know to be true deep down? There’s something powerful in that. Something authentic. What would happen if you owned your decisions, without second-guessing every little thing? Without that nagging feeling of wondering if it’s the right choice? You’d stop outsourcing your confidence. You’d stop asking for permission to be who you are. And that’s where the real power lies. You’ll still stumble, of course. You’ll still make mistakes. But those mistakes? They’ll be yours. Your own experience, your own growth, your own journey. At least it’ll be real. At least it’ll be authentically yours. Because the truth is, no one else is going to carry the weight of your mistakes for you. So why let them carry the credit for your choices? When you trust yourself, it’s not about never failing. It’s about building resilience, learning from your own story, and owning every decision along the way. And as you start to trust yourself more, the clarity comes in waves. It’s not instant -it’s not always loud -but it’s real. It’s like peeling back layers you didn’t even know existed, discovering parts of yourself that were buried beneath fear, doubt, and hesitation. Those moments of clarity will come when you’re alone with your thoughts, when you stop asking everyone else for permission. It’s in those moments that you realize: You’ve always known what’s best for you. You just had to stop looking outside and start trusting what’s inside. Because that’s how you create your own story. Not in the advice you seek, but in the trust you give yourself. That’s where the growth is. That’s where the real change happens. And it’s in the quiet moments of choosing for yourself that you start to recognize the person you’re becoming. Your choices begin to shape you into the person you were always meant to be.

“The only way to do great work is to love what you do.” - Albert Einstein

Sincerely yours

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