people would respond in kind.

Turns out, people don’t respond to what you said.

They respond to whatever they felt like hearing.

You ask a group:

“What stood out to you from this week’s reading?”

and somehow, you get

a side story about someone’s neighbor,

a 10-minute tangent about avocados,

and a tearful memory from the 90s.

People just sprint away from the actual question

and then stare at you like you’re the weird one

when you say:

“...That’s not what I asked.”

So eventually, someone tried to fix it.

Made the question more “open,” more “accommodating.”

Added options: “...about the main theme, a character, or anything else.”

And boom—suddenly it’s back to:

“Page 34 really spoke to me.”

Like we didn’t just survive verbal jazz improv for three weeks straight.

I sat there thinking—what kind of logic is this?!

When the question was specific, they improvised.

When it got vague, they snapped to attention.

Are we dealing with humans or reverse psychology experiments?

And then I realized—

It’s not stupidity.

It’s group behavior.

Give most people too much clarity,

and they’ll look for a side door.

Give them vagueness with a clipboard vibe,

and they’ll follow the imaginary rules.

This is why I no longer argue with interpretation.

If I say something and you decide to rewrite it in your head—

That’s between you and your imagination.

I’m not chasing your feelings around the room

like they’re loose chickens.

I’ve made peace with this strange species we live among.

But please don’t tell me I need to learn how to communicate.

I’ve been speaking clearly this whole time.

Y’all just keep bringing riddles to a conversation.