This sentence by Brené Brown changed the way I relate to others and to myself.

I’ve never liked mind games or vague communication. I’m someone who values directness. I don’t fear difficult conversations, I welcome them. I often tell people: Ask me the hardest question, and I’ll give you a real answer. Even if it’s uncomfortable, it will be honest.

There were times when I didn’t know how to name what felt off in my interactions. I’d feel frustrated, unsettled, but couldn’t quite explain why. Then I came across this sentence, and it gave me the language I had been missing.

Because unclear communication is not harmless, it’s confusing, draining, and often deeply unkind.

When someone speaks vaguely, drops a loaded comment, or talk around the topic instead of directly addressing it, and you’re left wondering:
Was that about me?
Am I overthinking?
Should I ask? Should I ignore it?

That inner spiral begins. You analyze tone, timing, expressions. You replay conversations in your head, trying to connect invisible dots. And instead of clarity, you find anxiety.

It’s not about being too sensitive, it’s about being left in the dark when honesty could have brought peace.

Some people think avoiding the truth is a form of kindness. But let me say this clearly:
Withholding the truth isn’t kindness. It’s avoidance.
Silence can be cruel. So can vague smiles and emotionally mixed signals.

Even if you don’t like me, fine, tell me to my face. I won’t be offended. I’ll be grateful because I value truth more than comfort.
And the same goes for care.

If you care about me, admire me, or are curious about me, say it. Don’t wrap it in cryptic compliments, slow-drip attention, or subtle hints that leave me guessing.
Because just like vague resentment hurts, vague affection confuses.

Unspoken feelings don’t protect; it withholds.
And love, in its most powerful form, doesn’t whisper from the shadows.
It stands in the light.

When my friends come to me unsure about someone’s behavior, an unclear comment, a half-finished sentence, a shift in tone, I always tell them: Ask. Only they have the answer.

But here’s the hard truth:
Some people don’t know themselves well enough to give a clear answer.
Some hide behind vagueness because they haven’t done the work of facing their own feelings or their fears.
And some are still too hurt by a past they haven’t been able to face or fully heal from.

So, they stay ambiguous, not out of malice, but out of protection.
But even so, their silence still leaves others carrying the weight of what’s unsaid.

I would rather face an uncomfortable truth than stay stuck in emotional limbo.
Because clarity is not cruelty.
It’s care.
It’s respect.
It’s the foundation of trust.

I have no interest in decoding puzzles or dancing around unspoken truths.
I want to meet people in the open, where love is not implied, but expressed.
Where conflict is not avoided but faced with courage.

Let’s stop wasting time with maybes and mind games.
Let’s choose truth. Even when it’s hard.
Because that, to me, is what real kindness looks like.