Sometimes I forget to ask questions that some people would assume means I’m being rude, but I don’t like to pry.
Sometimes I don’t ask questions because I don’t want to be nosy, but I’m not disinterested.
Sometimes I talk too much, but I do enjoy listening too.
Sometimes I talk when I’m nervous, but often when I’m nervous, I don’t talk at all.
Sometimes I talk about my children too much, but I find them fascinating. (I appreciate you humoring me as much as you do.)
Sometimes when I get home from talking with friends, I wonder if I interrupted too often, but I continue to accidentally interrupt.
Sometimes I ramble on a bit, seemingly without any point, but sometimes there is a point.