Something I’ve come to accept—slowly, and without bitterness—is that in the grand scheme of things, not everyone shares the same moral compass.
I don’t mean differences of opinion.
I don’t mean culture, beliefs, or labels.
I mean something more fundamental.
An inner sense that there is a right and a wrong—even when no one is watching.
A pull toward honesty, even when dishonesty would be easier.
A resistance to harm, even when harm is rewarded.
I’ve also come to believe that many people are not acting from this place at all.
They are responding.
Adapting.
Repeating.
Almost as if running on a program.
That idea can sound unkind if stated carelessly, but I don’t mean it that way. I don’t think most people are malicious. I think many are simply unexamined—shaped by fear, authority, habit, reward, and repetition. Told what to want. Told what to believe. Told who they are.
We’re often told that we are all the same. That our inner workings are interchangeable. That given the right instruction, anyone will arrive at the same conclusions.
That has never felt true to me.
Some people feel an internal resistance when something is wrong, even if they can’t explain why. Others don’t feel that resistance at all. Some will question a directive instinctively. Others will obey it reflexively.
This difference isn’t taught.
It isn’t earned.
It simply appears to be there—or not.
Those who feel it often grow up sensing they don’t quite belong. Not because they want to be different, but because certain things that seem obvious to them seem invisible to others.
If this resonates, you’re not broken.
You’re not arrogant.
You’re not imagining it.
You may simply be part of a smaller group—one that listens inward before accepting outward instruction.
I don’t know what that means in the larger picture yet.
I don’t know where it leads.
But I know this:
When I ignore that inner compass, things fall apart.
When I listen to it, even quietly, I move closer to something true.
For now, that’s enough.
— a Veilkin