Sarci-Sense: You’re Either Silent Or Unbearable. Neither Is Conversation.

We have never been so surrounded by communication and so untouched by conversation. We have more devices in our lives than the number of fingers in our hands. Well now, if you are counting, that’s a good start.

Our phones vibrate, screens light up, notifications pile on, and yet when something actually matters, we do not know what to say. 

Or worse, we know exactly what to say and say it endlessly. We live in an age where silence has become avoidance and talking has become aggression. Neither is communication. Both are escape routes.

You probably think you are a good communicator. Most people do. You respond on time, you speak clearly, you have opinions, you participate. And yet, if the people closest to you were honest, they might tell you that talking to you feels either exhausting or impossible.

This is the great lie of modern society. We believe communication is happening because words are exchanged. But words are cheap now. Attention is not. Listening is rarer than honesty. And conversation, the kind that leaves both people changed, has quietly disappeared while we were busy congratulating ourselves for being “connected.”

There was a time when conversation meant risk. You sat with someone long enough for things to become awkward. You listened long enough to be changed. Today, communication is everywhere, but conversation has become an endangered activity. We either vanish into polite silence or flood the room with words. Both feel safer than actually engaging.

Modern adults have perfected two extreme behaviours. One is disappearance. The other is domination.

The silent type responds with ticks, thumbs, and one-word acknowledgements. “Seen.” “Ok.” “Noted.” Or worse off, we use emojis. No need to bother typing. It looks efficient. It feels controlled. It avoids confrontation. Silence has become a socially acceptable way to withdraw without admitting that you do not want to deal with what the other person might say. We call it being busy. We call it protecting our energy. What it really is, is fear of being pulled into something real.

The loud type does the opposite. They fill every gap with commentary. They talk through meetings, dinners, phone calls, and other people’s sentences. They send voice notes longer than most people’s patience. They treat every conversation as an audience opportunity. 

Both types believe they are communicating. Neither is.

Technology did not create this behaviour. It trained it. Platforms reward speed, reaction, and volume. You are encouraged to respond quickly or not at all. To broadcast, not to exchange. To speak, not to absorb. We have become excellent at expressing ourselves and terrible at receiving others.

The result is a strange emotional landscape. People who talk constantly are lonely. People who stay silent feel misunderstood. Everyone believes the other side is the problem.

Middle age sharpens this divide. Adults reach a stage where conversation feels dangerous. The age bandwidth on either side of their own age makes it even more a guess work if something they say could be used to hurt them back. Talking honestly might reveal dissatisfaction. Listening carefully might demand a response. Silence becomes a form of self-preservation. Noise becomes a form of self-importance.

At home, this shows up quietly. Couples stop talking and start coordinating. Conversations turn into schedules, reminders, and logistics. Or they turn into monologues disguised as sharing. One person speaks. The other waits. Nobody meets in the middle. Emotional life becomes either muted or overwhelming.

At work, silence looks like professionalism. Loudness looks like leadership. Real conversation, the kind that involves uncertainty, disagreement, and listening, looks inefficient. So we replace it with presentations, updates, and endless explanations. Everyone leaves informed. Nobody leaves understood.

Friendships suffer the same fate. Some friends disappear behind polite distance. Others dominate with personal narratives. Very few sit long enough to ask and stay quiet after asking. Listening has become an endangered skill because it offers no immediate reward.

The irony is that both silence and noise serve the same purpose. Control. Silence controls exposure. Noise controls the narrative. Neither allows the messiness of mutual exchange.

Conversation requires surrender. You have to slow down. You have to risk misunderstanding. You have to allow someone else’s words to interrupt your own story. Silence requires courage too. The courage to stay when you want to escape. To listen without preparing a reply. To remain present without disappearing.

The tragedy is that both behaviours are learned, not natural. We were taught to talk early. We were rarely taught to listen. We were praised for speaking up, rarely for staying quiet with intention. We grew up believing expression was strength. Nobody explained that listening requires more strength than speaking.

There is something quietly cruel about how we now interact. People who need conversation most often receive noise. People who offer conversation are met with silence. Everyone feels unseen, and everyone believes they are expressing themselves clearly.

And then we wonder why relationships feel shallow. Why workplaces feel exhausting. Why friendships feel transactional. Why families sit together scrolling instead of speaking. We built a world full of communication and forgot how to be social.

Being social was never about talking more. It was about staying longer than comfort allowed. It was about tolerating pauses. It was about curiosity that did not need to be performed. It was about letting another person finish, even if what they said made you uncomfortable.

Most of us are not bad communicators. If people around you feel unheard, it is not because they are poor communicators. It is because you are either not listening or not letting them speak. And if you feel unseen, it is not because nobody is talking to you. It is because real conversation has become something you avoid.

The future does not need more platforms, more tools, or more expression. It needs fewer words and more courage. The courage to listen without retreating. The courage to speak without dominating. The courage to stay present when it would be easier to disappear or perform.

Because the opposite of loneliness is not noise. It is not silence either.
It is conversation.
And most of us have forgotten how to have one.