You want to be mysterious, but you can’t shut the fuck up.

You want to be that person. The one who glides into a room like a well-kept secret. The one who speaks in half-sentences and somehow everyone leans in like they’re about to drop a life-altering revelation. The one at dinner who speaks once every 45 minutes, and when they do, everyone goes quiet. They blink. They smirk. They drop one vague sentence and suddenly they’re the main character in everyone’s mind. You want that. You want to be the person people wonder about, not the person you think people want to mute. You want to be the one with the quiet Instagram story, the unreadable expression, the “sorry, I was off my phone” energy that suggests inner peace, not poor time management.

But in reality? You are a walking voice note.

Someone asks, “How are you?” and you’re like, “Well, since you asked,” and suddenly they know your sleep schedule, your childhood wounds, your ex’s red flags, your spiraling thoughts at 3 a.m., the barista you’re pretty sure is your soulmate, and why your neighbor’s dog is gaslighting you. You don’t answer questions; you open files. You explain. In detail. With examples, subplots, disclaimers, and emotional footnotes. You don’t hint; you emotionally screen-share.

You want to be reserved, elusive, ethereal…however your mouth is like, “So anyway, here’s everything I’ve ever felt since 2007.”

But here’s the thing…when someone is mysterious, people project onto them. They fill in the blanks. They build a fantasy around what might be there. When you open your mouth, the blanks vanish. People don’t have to wonder who you are, you hand them the annotated guide, the map, the legend, and a behind-the-scenes interview.

So maybe the real question isn’t: “Why can’t you shut the fuck up?” Maybe it’s: “Why are you so desperate to be unreadable?”

Because mystery feels safe, doesn’t it? If no one really knows you, no one can really misunderstand you. If you share less, you risk less. If you keep it vague, you never have to watch your truth land wrong in someone else’s hands. Being “mysterious” is just the glamorous word for “emotionally unavailable.”

But you? Unfortunately, you’re built for connection. You process out loud. You bond through words. You make sense of your life by putting language around it. You’re not designed to be an enigma. You’re designed to be understood.

And maybe, annoyingly, that’s not a flaw. Maybe it’s intimacy. Maybe it’s what makes people feel safe around you. Maybe the reason people tell you their secrets is because you go first, and that’s not embarrassing, that’s actually leadership in disguise.

Still, you’re allowed to want some edges. You’re allowed to want a little less… leakage.

So here’s the move: you don’t have to become mysterious. You’re not suddenly going to morph into a one-word-answer, sunglasses-inside person. That’s not you. But you can learn to pause. You can learn to let silence exist without sprinting to fill it. You can share because it feels right, not because anxiety hit “send” before you did.

You can take a breath before telling someone your entire life story on a first date. You can re-read the paragraph-long text before pressing send and ask, “Am I saying this because it’s true, or because I’m afraid of being misunderstood?” You can let people earn the deeper chapters instead of handing them the whole book in the first five minutes.

You don’t have to shut the fuck up. You just don’t have to give everything away, all at once, to everyone.

You want to be mysterious, but maybe what you actually want is to feel less exposed, less over-explained, less like you’re always on sale. Mystery isn’t about saying nothing. It’s about saying enough, and trusting that it’s enough.

So no, you probably won’t be the quiet, unreadable person in the corner. You’ll still be the one talking with your hands, telling stories, making the table laugh. Keep your voice. Keep your honesty. Keep your 47-slide internal PowerPoint presentations. Just remember: not every thought deserves an audience. Not every feeling deserves a live stream. And not every person has earned the right to know why you are the way you are. Maybe now, you’ll keep a little something just for you. Not because you’re hiding. Because you finally realized you don’t have to give your whole self away to prove you’re worth knowing. Until next time x