Let me put pen to paper, or fingers to keys, and I will elucidate my every though in a coherent manner that would at least leave you with the impression that I wasn't mentally or intelectually inept.
Call on me to speak off the cuff, or casually engage in so-called small talk or "chat", and I will feel lost. Every second demands the proper word and thought, right then and there. I will cave, and you will walk away thinking I am stupid.
Society won't judge me by what I write; they will never read it. It is only those daily verbalizations by which I will be judged.
The wastefulness of this life might be a boon if it wasn't for the ritualistic pain.