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People often interrupt me, assuming I’ve finished speaking. It happens so regularly that I’ve come to expect it.

In conversation, a pause on my part is rarely a full stop. It’s just a moment where I’m trying to find the next word. Not gathering my thoughts in some deliberate, poetic way, but simply trying to get the words out.

There’s a kind of disconnect between what I want to say and the speed at which my tongue can say it. And in that pause, people often jump in.

It’s frustrating. And tiresome.

Today, I tried Google’s Gemini app for the first time, using the voice option out of curiosity. But it echoed something painfully familiar: it cut me off.

Before I’d finished speaking, it decided I had finished. Then it launched into a long, overly detailed response, talking over me, in a sense, just like so many people do.

The silence between words was misread as a conclusion, not a struggle.

I’ve long suspected this might be linked to something deeper. Possibly the impacts of a chromosome disorder or traits associated with certain language processing difficulties.

It’s one of the reasons I favour the keyboard: it lets me express myself at my own pace. No interruptions. No anxious scramble to hold the floor. Just space.

But trying Gemini today reminded me of how often I’m not given that space when I speak. And how common it is for both humans and AI to misread pauses.

There seems to be a cultural impatience with silence, especially when it’s not eloquent or intentional, but is just part of how someone speaks.

And that impatience, over time, wears you down. Not dramatically. Just in small, cumulative ways.

I’m in my late 40s now. I’ve learned to work around this. I’m past looking for a solution.

But I think it’s worth reflecting on what happens when the world refuses to slow down for people who need a moment. Not to think, but just to speak.

This isn’t a complaint, really. Just a quiet offering. One pause that, for once, I hope no one rushes to fill.