For some people, like myself,
Socializing can be more stressful than anything else.
For the constant, trying fear of saying the wrong thing,
Can overstimulate my chaotic brain.
Thinking about the right things to say,
Binds my tongue to my teeth, inevitably.
When someone gives you—that look,
One can begin to regret the words that they took.
Read their reactions like an open book,
But even then, intentions can often be mistaken.
Say, for instance,
Jack and Amy shared a kiss,
Relationship on the precipice,
Of blossoming or shattering into many, tiny pieces.
Hypothetically,
He went down on one knee,
When, realistically,
They had been dating for only ten weeks.
Her eyes widen, filled with surprise,
She doesn’t feel she’s ready,
To go with Jack and be his Amy.
Every second that she hesitated,
Brings Jack right back to his insecure past,
And he trembled as he feared being defeated.
One word, to change their fate,
One word, before it’s all too late,
Nobody could’ve predicted or known,
That Amy’s response was no.
Was this a crisis of connection,
A perfect imperfection,
Or a childish obsession?
Did he push too hard?
Was he too naive?
Was there something that he just couldn’t see?
Perhaps, this confession,
Was out of comprehension,
And currently out of the question.
The stress of socialization,
Fearing not fitting into the herd.
No one wants to be the outlier,
For those are cast into the fire.
The stress mounts like an overwhelming mountain,
Threatening to burst and combust if it feels too much traction.
I don’t believe there’s an answer,
For perfected connectivity,
Since the words we dictate,
Can lead to jagged reactivity.
For some, these stresses mean not,
For others, it’s a challenge to overcome.
I lie in the latter camp,
My heart feeling damp.
As I struggle with the realization that,
The stresses of socialization can’t be taken away.
Oct 28, 2025
Oct 28, 2025 at 11:01 PM UTC
For some people, like myself,
Socializing can be more stressful than anything else.
For the constant, trying fear of saying the wrong thing,
Can overstimulate my chaotic brain.
Thinking about the right things to say,
Binds my tongue to my teeth, inevitably.
When someone gives you—that look,
One can begin to regret the words that they took.
Read their reactions like an open book,
But even then, intentions can often be mistaken.
Say, for instance,
Jack and Amy shared a kiss,
Relationship on the precipice,
Of blossoming or shattering into many, tiny pieces.
Hypothetically,
He went down on one knee,
When, realistically,
They had been dating for only ten weeks.
Her eyes widen, filled with surprise,
She doesn’t feel she’s ready,
To go with Jack and be his Amy.
Every second that she hesitated,
Brings Jack right back to his insecure past,
And he trembled as he feared being defeated.
One word, to change their fate,
One word, before it’s all too late,
Nobody could’ve predicted or known,
That Amy’s response was no.
Was this a crisis of connection,
A perfect imperfection,
Or a childish obsession?
Did he push too hard?
Was he too naive?
Was there something that he just couldn’t see?
Perhaps, this confession,
Was out of comprehension,
And currently out of the question.
The stress of socialization,
Fearing not fitting into the herd.
No one wants to be the outlier,
For those are cast into the fire.
The stress mounts like an overwhelming mountain,
Threatening to burst and combust if it feels too much traction.
I don’t believe there’s an answer,
For perfected connectivity,
Since the words we dictate,
Can lead to jagged reactivity.
For some, these stresses mean not,
For others, it’s a challenge to overcome.
I lie in the latter camp,
My heart feeling damp.
As I struggle with the realization that,
The stresses of socialization can’t be taken away.
Think of this poem as a sequel of sorts to "The Crisis of Connection."
