They call him an idiot!

It's hard to put it into words, so I just imagine saying it. 
However, now one hears it, and its value is lost. 
Completely!
The thought came to life one second in my head.
I said to myself, "that's freaking amazing"! I must tell someone. 
There is no one.
Well, I must remember it. Where's a piece of paper? 
Frantically looking for just one piece of writable paper. 
Where is my notebook. I have 3, maybe 4. 
Found one!
All pages have scribbles, notes, and numbers of information that at one time must have been valuable, but now I can't make any sense of it. 
Oh! A cafe Gusto receipt. That's enough.
Isn't it?
Dam it! The paper is shinny and smooth. The ink of the pen can barely stick to it. 
Useless!
Oh no! The idea is at the edge of my mind to being lost.
What was it again? 
Try!
Try!
Gone!
The birth of an idea. The first life of enlightening gibberish just became just that. Gibberish lost. 
An abortion of life words which I knew were important enough to pass onto another person, completely lost again.
I'm ashamed!
There are people who wish they could speak.
There's a tree that longs for a person to listen.
A stray cat that hopes someone could hear the reason why they are a stray.
I'm a human with the ability to speak. However, I throw it away!
I'm a black hole for statements.
A toilet for information.
A garbage for questions.
The only word that comes to mind now? 
Idiot!