Ever happened to you? Someone throws a harsh line your way and you instantly counterattack with logic and facts, desperate to prove you’re right. Even if you win the argument, a bitter aftertaste remains. Why?

Because you responded to the words, not the person. In that split second your psyche slammed shut inside a four-walled cell: “Incoming attack!”, “Defend!”, “I’m right!”, “They’re wrong!” Like a wound-up toy you start battering your head against those walls and lose touch with reality.

When we talk to someone we usually interpret everything on the level of words: what the other person said is exactly what we reply to. Ninety percent of conflicts come from that, because we answer the words instead of the human being. Old wounds, practiced reactions, everything we keep hidden adds another layer to the mix.

There is a key, though, that lets you step out of the loop. Before you respond, pause for a few seconds and ask yourself just one question: “What feeling pushed this person to say that?”, “Where does it hurt?” Forget logic. Forget facts. Feel. Maybe it’s irritation, maybe exhaustion, maybe resentment or sheer panic. Something else entirely?

We don’t know for certain. It doesn’t matter. First, that pause breaks the mechanical reaction. Second, it shifts the ego-focus away from you and toward the other person’s possible inner state. You stop acting like a prosecutor hunting for guilt and become a researcher looking for pain.

Next time someone throws a sharp phrase at you, stop for a few seconds. Don’t answer. Simply ask yourself: “What hurts right now?” That question changes everything.

This key isn’t about the other person—it’s about you. It slides into the lock, turns, and the door of your inner prison opens with a quiet click. You stop running in circles, stop banging your head against the wall, and step outside, under the open sky. The inner mechanism comes to rest.

We fail to see the other person because we’re trapped inside our own storyline; we play the character who must achieve their goal at any cost. To feel another human being, you need to step out of your script for a few seconds and peek into theirs.

When you truly do that, something remarkable happens. Once the questions “Who’s guilty?” and “What should I do?” disappear, so does the bruised ego chasing the correct answer. In that moment it’s simply gone.

What remains is vision. And the response emerges on its own—from that vision. Not from the head. Not from the rulebook. It just happens.