Dear Mr. Cooper,
We’ve noticed you treat conversational pauses the way a squirrel treats a momentarily unguarded bird feeder—as an opportunity to swoop in and claim everything in sight. Your attempts at conversation have become less dialogue and more like an aggressive TED Talk where audience participation is strictly prohibited. Let’s just say no one asked for this extended director’s cut of your opinion with bonus commentary track.
We’re not suggesting you retire from all discourse, just maybe give someone else more than a half-second cameo in the grand production that is “you talking.” You’ve become the conversational equivalent of that person who starts eating before everyone else’s plates have arrived, except instead of food, you’re devouring our unfinished thoughts. And yes, we understand your burning need to explain why we’re wrong about you always needing to be right—the irony of that response is not lost on us.
Mid-Sentence Yours,
Everyone You’ve Ever Interrupted
P.S. – The fact that you’re already forming a rebuttal before reaching this postscript rather proves our point, doesn’t it?
Dear Everyone I’ve Ever Interrupted (which, let’s be honest, is probably everyone I’ve ever met),
I’m sorry for treating every conversation like it was Speed Dating: Debate Team Edition. I know, I know – starting an apology with “I’m sorry, but…” is like starting a diet with “after this cake.” So let me try again.
I’m sorry for acting like every discussion was a game of Verbal Jenga, where I had to quickly pull out my point before your words could make the whole thing tumble. For treating your thoughtful pauses like empty parking spots in a crowded lot – something to be immediately claimed before someone else could take them.
My mind has always been like a browser with too many tabs open, each one playing its own video at full volume. ADHD hits the refresh button constantly, OCD keeps checking if all the tabs are still there, and BPD is ready to throw the whole computer out the window if one of them crashes. But that’s not an excuse – it’s just the operating system I’m working to update.
I’m sorry for treating your stories like they were Netflix shows I could fast-forward through to get to “the good parts” (aka the parts where I get to talk). For acting like conversations were less like a dance and more like a game of conversational Whack-a-Mole, where every emerging thought needed to be immediately hammered down with my response.
To my family members who’ve tried to tell me about their day, only to have me hijack the conversation faster than a caffeinated squirrel spotting an unattended acorn – I’m sorry. To my friends who’ve attempted to share their perspectives, only to have me treat their words like a launching pad for my own Ted Talk – I’m working on it.
And to everyone who’s ever said “As I was saying…” after I’ve interrupted them – your patience hasn’t gone unnoticed. It’s just taken me nearly five decades to properly appreciate it.
I’m learning that conversations aren’t races to be won, they’re gardens to be tended. Sometimes you need to let other people’s thoughts bloom before planting your own seeds. And yes, I realize I just interrupted my own apology with a metaphor, but hey – progress, not perfection, right?
Sincerely, The Guy Who Just Interrupted You While You Were Reading This Apology About Interrupting People
P.S. I promise to start listening more and talking l—oh, were you about to say something?
Opie Cooper
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