In Celebration of Oversharers.

I have a deep intolerance for small talk. It’s not that I don’t understand its function, the social oil, the easy warmth of polite, light convo… but I find it exhausting and v empty. There’s a kind of ache that comes when words skim the surface and never touch the real shit.

I’d rather sit in silence than talk about the footy. I’d rather ask how your noggin is than how your week’s been. I want to know what’s happening in your life, what keeps you awake at night, what you long for but rarely say out loud…

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