You are “sound and fury, signifying nothing”.
You are the last fart of a man who just died, alone in the woods. Did he have tacos? Beans? Nobody will ever know, or care.
You are the weak and wailing fool by the side of the road, who stares ahead blindly, muttering to himself, unable to hear the wisdom of those who pass by saying “do not sit there in your own filth, rise up and go wash yourself in the river”… but you just sit there and finger paint with the excrement of your own mind.
Watch and wait. Preferably somewhere else.