Emotional Subtext Is Killing Me

Just tell me the thing. I’m not going to explode.

I’ve become stupidly good at reading the silence between sentences. The pause before the text bubble appears. The too-long ellipsis. The emoji that doesn’t get used. The tone of a “no worries” that is ABSOLUTELY laced with worry.

Like. We’ve all become these over-functioning mind readers. These expert codebreakers of human discomfort. It’s exhausting.

And for what? So nobody ever has to say what they actually mean?

Honestly, kids had it figured out. Little terrorists of truth. Like a four-year-old will just look at you and go, “You smell weird,” and walk away. That’s it. No shame. No follow-up. No apology. You just smell weird. End of transmission. Or they’ll straight-up say “I don’t like you” while stealing your snack. And the weirdest part? You respect it. There’s no pretending. No maybe-we’ll-get-coffee bullshit. Just clarity. Harsh, chaotic, beautiful clarity.

We all started out like that. Raw. Blunt. Unfiltered. We said “I’m sad” or “I don’t want to” or “I love you” without worrying about tone or punctuation or whether it would make things weird. And then somewhere along the way, someone told us honesty makes people uncomfortable. That if you’re too direct, you’re too much. If you’re clear, you’re cold. If you’re honest, you’re rude.

So we learn the performance. The softening. The “haha totally!” when we mean “absolutely not.” The “maybe soon!” that means never. The “so sorry I missed this!” when you read it six hours ago and just didn’t want to deal with it.

And now we’re all walking around in these beautiful, aching little pantomimes. Smiling while we disassociate. Making plans we don’t intend to keep. Feeling lonely in friendships that technically still exist.

And it’s… violence. Not the dramatic kind. The slow, invisible kind that erodes trust and connection and makes your whole chest feel five pounds heavier than it needs to be.

You ever get one of those texts that should be fine but makes your whole nervous system light up like a Christmas tree? Like: “Maybe we can reschedule sometime.” “I’m just really slammed right now.” “Sorry for the delay!”

Okay. But what do you MEAN!! Cue screenshot sent to group chat to analyze.

Do you actually want to see me again? Are you avoiding me? Are you mad? Are you just saying this to be nice? Are you hoping I’ll get the hint and go away?

Because I will. I always get the hint. Too well, actually. I can read the tone under the tone. The part you didn’t say. The awkwardness you're hoping I won't notice. And I hate it. I hate that I’m good at it. I hate that I know how to disappear myself before someone even has to ask.

And maybe you're thinking, “Well, just take people at face value.” Okay. But what if they’re never actually showing their face?

I’m not asking for brutal honesty. I don’t need the kid version of truth where someone tells me my outfit looks like sadness on a hanger. But I am asking for real honesty. Honest honesty. Not the wrapped-up, softened, passive version that’s basically just... permission to ghost with a smile.

Just say “I can’t.” Say “I don’t want to.” Say “I’m not in the space for that kind of connection right now.” Say something real. Because all this fake politeness is costing us more than we think.

And look — I get it. I do it too. I’ve said “Let’s hang soon!” with no intention of following up. I’ve smiled through something I hated just to keep the peace. I’ve ghosted instead of explaining. I’m not proud of it, but I know why I did it. Fear. Guilt. That weird social rule that being clear is somehow meaner than slowly disappearing on someone.

But I’m done with it. I don’t want to be a magician of emotional subtext. I want friendships that feel like sitting on the floor in sweatpants saying “I can’t do this week, I’m burnt out and feral but I still love you.” I want working relationships where “I disagree” doesn’t feel like a betrayal. I want dating that doesn’t feel like reading tea leaves with someone who keeps changing the cup.

I want people to mean what they say.

And I’m learning that honesty can be gentle. It can be soft. It can be kind. Not nice. Kind. There’s a difference. Kindness is real. Niceness is often just fear in a cute outfit.

Please. Stop being polite when you mean “no.” Stop disappearing when you mean “I’m scared.” Stop saying “I’m fine” when your voice is shaking.

Just say it. Blurt it. Text it weird. Be messy. Be clear.

Clarity is not cruelty. Clarity is care. Clarity is relief.

And most of the time? Telling the truth is actually easier.

Ripping the bandaid off hurts for, what, three seconds? The lie? That drags out for weeks. It festers. It makes everything weird. It turns into ten other lies and then a weird vibe at a dinner party six months from now that nobody knows how to name but everyone can feel.

I don’t want to tiptoe around every maybe. I don’t want to squint at every “haha no worries” and wonder if you’re actually mad.

Just tell me. Say the thing.

Pretending takes so much more energy than honesty ever did.And I’m tired.Aren’t you?