Why You Always Feel Like You Have Nothing To Say And What To Do About It (You Can't Learn This In School)

If you want to become someone who has something to say, you need to develop your own unique perspective, or micro-philosophy, so that you can understand yourself better and improve the lives of others

A lot of people feel like they have nothing to say.

“How was the movie?”

“It was good.”

“What did you think about that book?”

“I liked it.”

“What did you think about that article I sent you?”

“I agreed with it.”

There are two kinds of people who struggle with this problem.

On the one hand, there are people who have nothing to say and are totally fine with that. They don’t see it as a problem.

But on the other hand, there are millions of people who do see it as a problem—people who wish they were more like their favorite author, speaker, or creator. They admire the way these individuals seem to always have something meaningful to say, and they wish they could do the same.

This second group is self-aware enough to recognize a limitation. They want to develop their own ideas, speak intelligently, contribute something unique—but they either don’t know how or don’t believe it’s possible for them.

Here’s a simple thought experiment to check where you fall:

The Podcast Test

Imagine you wake up tomorrow morning to an email from the host of your favorite podcast. They’re inviting you to be a guest on their show—a show with millions of viewers or listeners. They’re excited to talk to you. They want to interview you for two hours straight.

How would you feel?

Would you believe that you have something valuable to offer their audience? Or would the very idea of that conversation fill you with panic?

Here’s the thing: being able to talk for hours isn’t the same as having something to say. Chit-chatting, rambling, or making jokes is easy. What’s hard is providing unique insights that deepen someone else’s thinking.

If you and another person watch the exact same movie, what can you say about it that they wouldn’t? What perspective do you bring that adds something new?

Millions of people want to become the kind of person who can walk into that podcast interview with confidence—not because they’re arrogant, but because they’ve developed the self-trust that comes from doing the work of thinking deeply and communicating clearly.

Why does this matter?

Because if you can become that kind of person, you can radically improve your life—and the lives of others.

You gain the ability to help people. You become someone who can offer clarity, insight, and wisdom that helps others get unstuck or grow. And in the process, you deepen your own engagement with life, ideas, and meaning.

But here’s the catch.

Many people hold a limiting belief: I’m not that kind of person.

They assume that being a thinker, a writer, or a speaker is for people who are naturally brilliant, effortlessly articulate, or inherently deep.

They don’t realize that what they’re missing isn’t intelligence. It’s skill.

The Real Reason You Don’t Have Anything to Say

The hard truth is this: most people who feel like they have nothing to say aren’t lacking insight—they’re lacking skill.

You don’t lack experiences.

You don’t lack opinions or a good life story.

What you lack is the ability to take the raw material of your life, refine it, and communicate it in a way that is valuable to others.

This is a skill. And like any skill, it can be developed.

It’s the skill of forming a unique relationship to the information you consume. Of thinking critically, making connections, and expressing ideas with clarity and intention. Of transforming your personal experiences into perspective.

Without this skill, you live out a version of yourself defined mostly by default settings—by your upbringing, your environment, your education. You’re trapped in a story about who you are and what you’re capable of, rather than actively shaping it.

It took me years to confront this.

For a long time, I told myself I wasn’t smart enough. That I just wasn’t cut out to be one of those people with something to say.

But the truth was simpler—and more uncomfortable: I hadn’t done the work.

It’s Not About Talent

There’s a reason people who master the skill of deep thinking and meaningful communication are respected, admired, and often rewarded.

It’s because what they’re doing is rare.

But it’s not rare because only a few people are born with the ability.

It’s rare because its difficult.

The main reason anyone accomplishes something difficult—whether it’s writing a book, growing an audience, or becoming a great conversationalist—isn’t talent.

It’s thoughtful dedication and persistence.

I truly believe that 99% of people can learn how to have something to say—at a level where they can:

• Write a valuable newsletter

• Speak confidently on a podcast

• Help others through their ideas

• Earn respect for their perspective

You can’t control the exact outcome. But you can control the skill you develop—and skill eventually leads to results.

The Great Advantage of Mental Skills

There’s something else that makes this path uniquely accessible.

Most rare and difficult achievements in life depend heavily on luck, talent, or physical traits.

• If you’re under 6 feet tall, you probably won’t play in the NBA.

• If you start training for the Olympics at age 20, it’s likely too late.

• If you weren’t born with exceptional speed, strength, or beauty, some doors may remain closed.

But none of that matters when it comes to becoming someone who has something to say.

This path depends on mental skills and character traits—not genetics. And here’s the beautiful part: the older you get, the more equipped you become. Most pursuits become harder with age. This one becomes easier.

That’s because the foundation for having something to say is life experience—and age gives you more of it.

You need to make mistakes. You need to suffer a little. You need to wrestle with big questions and live through real challenges before you can offer anything of substance. A teenager might be the best violinist in the world, but they’re unlikely to be a world-class life coach.

Wisdom, perspective, and insight are earned through time, not just talent.

I Know Because I’ve Lived It

I used to struggle with this myself.

I spent most of my twenties feeling like I didn’t have anything worthwhile to say.

Ironically, that’s one of the reasons I studied philosophy in the first place—I was looking for a way to think better.

When I started my PhD at 24, I was full of imposter syndrome. I still remember how hard it was to find my voice, even as a grad student in an Ivy League department.

In our first semester, we had to take something called the “Pro-Seminar”—a brutal, three-hour weekly session where we read and discussed dense philosophical texts with our future advisor.

Every week, I would prepare for hours. I took notes, reread passages, tried to anticipate questions.

And still, when I got to class, I had nothing to say.

I couldn’t even answer basic questions like, “What’s the main point of this article?”

It wasn’t because I didn’t care.

It wasn’t because I wasn’t trying.

It was because I hadn’t yet learned how to think in a way that allowed me to contribute, and I also didn't believe I could even become someone worthy of contributing.

Everyone Has a Perspective, But Few People Develop It.

The truth is that everyone already has a perspective.

You’re already living out a philosophy of life—whether you’ve articulated it or not. But most people haven’t developed their perspective to the point where it becomes valuable to others.

That’s the real difference.

Having a perspective means you’re operating with a worldview—even if it’s fuzzy or inherited.

Developing a perspective means you’ve done the work to reflect, clarify, and communicate it.

It means your ideas can actually help others solve problems, see more clearly, or move forward.

That’s why we follow certain writers, thinkers, or creators. We believe their way of seeing the world is helpful. They’ve done the hard work of turning raw experience into refined insight—and we benefit from it.

But this isn’t something you’re taught in school or handed at work.

You have to choose to pursue it.

Your early beliefs—about life, meaning, success, morality—were shaped by forces outside of your control:

• Your family

• Your religion

• Your culture

• Your education

• Your entertainment

In other words, you inherited a perspective before you ever had the chance to choose one.

But here’s the uniquely human thing: you can step back from who you’ve been and shape who you want to become. You can examine your inherited worldview and start building a new one.

That’s what personal growth really is.

And it begins the moment you stop living by default and start living by design.

When you realize that you’re not fixed—that you’re free to choose your perspective—you create a powerful space:

A gap between your lived self and your potential self.

That’s where transformation happens.

It’s like remodeling a house you’re still living in. Messy, uncomfortable, ongoing.

You can’t outsource it. You can’t move out during the renovation.

You can't stop being yourself while working on yourself.

The Case for a Micro-Philosophy

If you want to have something to say, you need to take control of the ideas in your head.

You need to move from inherited beliefs to chosen ones.

And here is a key insight to remember:

This doesn't mean you need to change who you are or what you believe.

You can create your own personal philosophy and choose your beliefs without changing them.

What changes is your understanding and self-knowledge.

By building your own perspective, you deepen your relationship to the beliefs you already hold.

That’s why I created the concept of a micro-philosophy.

A micro-philosophy is your personal philosophy—your most important beliefs, values, and moral principles—articulated clearly and intentionally.

It’s a concise expression of who you are and what you’re about.

Why You Need A Micro-Philosophy (If You Want To Become An Independent Thinker)

You don’t need to master Aristotle, Kant, or Marcus Aurelius.

You just need a clear understanding of your own mind.

Over the years, I’ve taught hundreds of students in philosophy classrooms. One thing that always struck me was how thoughtful many of my religious students were—even at a young age.

Whether or not you agree with their belief systems, many of them had something that gave them a major advantage: clarity.

They had an angle.

A worldview.

A way of filtering and evaluating ideas and defending a clear position.

That made it easier for them to participate in discussions, form opinions, and articulate their thoughts—even if they were simply repeating what they’d been taught.

The point isn’t that they had it all figured out. The point is that they had a perspective to work from.

That’s the first step.

Practicing the Skill of Perspective

Even if you don’t yet have a fully developed worldview, you can begin by borrowing the lenses of others.

Ask yourself:

• What would a Christian say about this?

• What would a Feminist say?

• What would James Clear say?

This is what philosophy trains you to do. It teaches you to reason from multiple perspectives—even ones you disagree with.

That’s a superpower.

But it’s not the end of the journey, it is just the beginning.

Eventually, you need to develop your own way of seeing things—something that others can learn from, relate to, and apply to their own lives.

You need to go from interpreter to creator.

A Simple Truth

Either you develop your own worldview—or someone else will do it for you.

Either you become someone who has something to say—or you spend your life parroting others, or being an admirer and onlooker.

If you want to begin this process, I recommend starting with my free 5-day email course here: ⏩️ micro-philosophy.com

It walks you through the exact steps to start building your own micro-philosophy—so that you can begin thinking for yourself, contributing to the world of ideas, and developing a perspective worth sharing.

You don’t need to be a genius.

You just need to start.