Have you ever scrolled through your social feed and thought, “YES, that’s it!” do you pause for something that makes you think? do you share it only to find that you disagree with it because it expresses something you find difficult to articulate?
I noticed this pattern in myself a few months ago. I shared an article about how perfectionism is actually a form of self-sabotage, and a friend texted me, “That’s how you are.” They were right. But here’s what surprised me: I didn’t share it because I already understood it. I shared it because the author finally put words to a truth I’ve been tossing around for years.
That’s when it hit me. Content that goes viral, posts that are shared thousands of times, rarely state the obvious facts that we all know. They express the unspoken thoughts swirling around in our heads, the half-formed thoughts we can’t fully grasp, the feelings we know to be true but can’t explain.
The psychology behind why we share
Think about the last thing you shared online. Was it because you actually agreed with him? Or was it because he said something you felt but couldn’t put into words?
There is an interesting psychology at work here. When we encounter content that expresses our unformed thoughts, our brains experience what researchers call “cognitive resonance.” It’s a satisfying click when someone else’s words suddenly organize the chaos in our brains.
I dived into this concept while doing research for my book Hidden Secrets of Buddhism: How to Live with Maximum Impact and Minimum Egoand what I’ve discovered is that sharing isn’t really about agreement. It’s about testimony by proxy.
We all walk around with these complex inner worlds full of observations, frustrations, and thoughts we can’t quite articulate. Then someone comes along and nails it. They find the words we can’t find, suddenly our voice comes out.
That’s why the most shared content often starts with “Nobody’s talking about…” or “Can we normalize…” or “Unpopular opinion, but…”.
Why articulation is more important than information
Here’s one thing I’ve learned from journaling: information is everywhere, but articulation is rare.
Anyone can Google the facts. We are drowning in information. What we are starving for is language that reflects meaning, context and, most importantly, our lived experience.
I remember struggling for months to realize that my perfectionism was actually holding me back. I knew something was wrong, I could feel it in my gut, but I couldn’t explain it to myself, let alone to others. Then I read a piece that described perfection as “a prison masquerading as virtue” and it all clicked. I didn’t just share that article; I practically preached it.
The author didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already suspect. But they gave me the words to understand and convey my experience. This is power.
This is why therapists often make progress when they reflect more clearly on what their clients are saying. That’s why we love writers who can describe feelings we can never name. They do not teach us new information; they teach us to speak our truth.
Actually distributed content
Want to know what really went viral? These are not how-to guides or breaking news. It’s content that makes people feel seen and understood.
See the most shared posts in your feed. They probably don’t teach you anything completely foreign. Instead, they likely express experiences you’ve had, frustrations you’ve felt, or ideas you’ve seen but never fully formed.
“That thing where you replay conversations in your head and think of the perfect answer three hours later…”
“The strange guilt of having a sick day when you’re actually sick…”
“‘No problem’ feels more sincere than ‘you’re welcome’…”
These observations are not groundbreaking discoveries. Finally, the form is shared experiences. When we share them, we’re essentially saying, “This person found the words I couldn’t find.”
Early family dinners in my house often turned into arguments about ideas and life perspectives. These conversations have taught me that the most powerful moments are not when someone presents new facts, but when they find a new way to frame what we all feel but cannot articulate. This is still true today in our digital conversations.
What this means for creators
If you’re creating content, that changes everything. Don’t try to be the smartest person in the room. Start being the most articulate about what everyone else already feels.
Your job is not to have experiences that no one else has. It’s about describing common experiences in ways that no one else has managed. You’re not so much a teacher as a translator, turning the messy internal dialogue we all have into clean, shareable ideas.
The best content creators aren’t necessarily the most knowledgeable. They are the ones who can look at universal human experiences and find fresh language to describe them. They give voice to the silent thoughts we all carry.
Writing from personal experience naturally creates this kind of connection. When I share my struggle or journey with perfectionism with the mindfulness practices I’ve learned from my studies of Eastern philosophy, I’m not claiming to be unique. I am confident that my particular story will help others express theirs.
Sensitivity to needing the words of others
There is something humbling about realizing how dependent we are on others to help us understand ourselves. We like to think that we are self-aware, that we know our own mind. But the truth is that we often need someone else’s words to make sense of our own experience.
This bothered me. Shouldn’t I be able to express my opinions? Why do I need someone else’s article to explain my feelings?
But I’ve come to see it as beautiful, not shameful. It’s proof that we’re all connected, that we struggle with similar things, that we need each other to understand this strange human experience.
When we share content, we participate in a collective effort to understand ourselves and our world. We say, “This helped me understand something I felt. Maybe it will help you, too.”
Last words
The next time you share something online, pay attention to why you’re really sharing it. It’s probably not because you learned anything new. This is because someone has finally said what you’ve been thinking, feeling, or feeling but can’t articulate.
This is the hidden power of good content. He doesn’t tell people what he doesn’t know; tells them what they know but can’t say. Language gives voice to the voiceless, form to the formless, the silent thoughts we all carry.
As someone who writes daily, I’ve learned that my most resonant pieces aren’t the ones where I try to be flashy or original. They are the people to whom I can express something that others feel but cannot express.
So if you’re a creator, don’t try to be the one with all the answers. Be the person who can articulate the questions everyone has. If you’re a content consumer, don’t feel bad about needing other people’s words to understand yourself. This is not a weakness; is human.
We all wander around with half-formed thoughts, nameless feelings, and concepts we don’t fully grasp. When someone comes and puts these things into words, we simply disagree with them. We share them because they said we couldn’t.
And in that sharing, we finally find our voice.
