Practice English Reading Exercises for B2 – Social Connections & Reconnecting 8

Exercises:   123456

Reading 1

You are going to read an article about four teenagers sharing the psychological burden of being the “therapist friend” who constantly absorbs everyone else’s emotional problems.

For questions 1-10, choose from the people/sections (A-D). The people/sections may be chosen more than once.

Which person/section

1   admits to actively concealing their own difficulties to avoid worrying others?

2   has noticed that their peers only make contact when they are in a state of crisis?

3   regrets not having the courage to turn people away when feeling overwhelmed?

4   suffered measurable negative consequences in their daily responsibilities?

5   feels a sense of guilt when they consider prioritizing their own well-being?

6   points out that their advice is often ignored despite the emotional energy they invest?

7   eventually decided to take a step back after a moment of clarity?

8   experiences physical symptoms of exhaustion from constantly listening to others?

9   believes people assume they are naturally equipped to handle difficult situations?

10   mentions taking action to direct their peers toward more qualified support?

The Heavy Price of Listening

A Liam

Everyone assumes I’m the resilient one, simply because I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve. Consequently, people flock to me with their drama, convinced I’m naturally wired to process their heavy emotions. At first, I didn’t mind lending a sympathetic ear. However, it’s incredibly frustrating when I spend hours talking a friend out of a panic, only to watch them completely disregard my guidance the very next day. I genuinely want to be supportive, but my inability to establish boundaries is taking its toll. I often kick myself for lacking the bravery to simply state that I am too drained to talk. Even when I am utterly exhausted, the moment my phone buzzes, I cave in and listen. I desperately need to learn how to decline these emotional offloads, but turning them away feels like a betrayal of their trust.

B Chloe

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the designated peacemaker in my social circle. Whenever my mates fall out or go through a rough patch, my bedroom becomes a sanctuary for their tears. Because I am so accustomed to absorbing their sorrow, I’ve developed a habit of sweeping my own problems under the carpet. I actively conceal my own anxieties because I dread adding to their already overflowing plates. It’s an incredibly isolating way to live. When I am having a terrible week, I just plaster on a fake smile and pretend everything is plain sailing. Even when I occasionally contemplate taking a weekend completely off the grid to recharge my own batteries, a wave of remorse washes over me. The mere thought of putting myself first makes me feel incredibly selfish. Shaking off this deep-rooted guilt is far easier said than done.

C Maya

Being the group’s agony aunt used to give me a sense of purpose, but recently it has spiralled out of control. My friends seem to think I’m on call around the clock. It’s not uncommon for my phone to ring at two in the morning with someone sobbing over a minor disagreement. Because I stay up trying to soothe them, my sleep deprivation has gone through the roof. The knock-on effect is that I am constantly battling migraines and a heavy sensation of physical fatigue during the day. More worryingly, my grades have taken a significant nosedive this term. If I hadn’t been so excessively available, my academic performance wouldn’t have suffered so drastically. My teachers have brought it up, but I can hardly explain that I’m failing my exams because I’m doing the emotional heavy lifting for five different teenagers.

D Sam

In the beginning, I got a genuine kick out of being the reliable rock for everyone. It boosted my self-esteem to know that my peers trusted my judgment. However, the gloss quickly wore off when a harsh reality dawned on me. I started scrolling through my messages and noticed a glaring pattern: my so-called mates exclusively reach out when their lives are falling apart. Nobody ever texts just to ask how my day was or to invite me to the cinema for a laugh. Had I established strict boundaries earlier, I wouldn’t have ended up feeling so entirely used. Once the penny dropped, I made up my mind to drastically reduce my availability. I’ve started putting my phone on ‘do not disturb’ in the evenings and gently encouraging them to seek professional help instead. It was a tough transition, but distancing myself has been remarkably liberating.

Reading 2

You are going to read an article about four young adults reflecting on the modern dating scene and the exhausting psychology of judging people entirely based on a dating app profile.

For questions 1-10, choose from the people (A-D). The people may be chosen more than once.

Which person

1   admits to rejecting potential partners due to insignificant imperfections?

2   compares the experience of evaluating profiles to assessing candidates for employment?

3   was frustrated by the lack of connection when meeting a digital match in the real world?

4   suggests that an abundance of alternatives prevents people from committing?

5   took a deliberate break from digital dating platforms to protect their mental well-being?

6   feels guilty about evaluating individuals solely on their physical appearance?

7   observes that people tend to showcase an unrealistic, perfected image of their lives?

8   complains about the exhausting cycle of exchanging messages that never lead to an actual meeting?

9   has decided to rely exclusively on traditional, offline methods to meet potential partners?

10   acknowledges that the repetitive nature of the process has made them lose their empathy?

The Swipe Fatigue: Modern Dating’s Psychological Toll

A Alex

When I first downloaded these apps, I was thrilled by the sheer volume of singles in my area. However, that initial excitement quickly morphed into severe burnout. It’s what psychologists call the paradox of choice; because there are constantly new faces appearing on your screen, you are always wondering if someone better is just one swipe away, which ultimately stops anyone from settling down. It feels like you’re browsing a catalogue rather than looking for a human connection. I used to swipe past people very quickly, but it wasn’t because of their small flaws; it was simply the overwhelming volume of them. A few months ago, the psychological toll became so heavy that I completely deleted every dating application from my phone for a digital detox. I needed to clear my head. While some friends claim they’ve found their soulmates online, I just couldn’t handle the endless, exhausting cycle anymore.

B Maya

The modern dating landscape is incredibly tedious. Scrolling through profiles feels exactly like sifting through a stack of CVs for a job vacancy. You’re constantly analysing their educational background, their hobbies, and their five-year plan, entirely missing the spontaneous chemistry of a natural encounter. Furthermore, it goes without saying that the profiles themselves are heavily curated. Everyone presents this flawless, filtered version of their existence, boasting about exotic holidays and thrilling weekends, which simply isn’t an accurate reflection of everyday life. I had a few dates from apps that were actually quite fun in person, but the overall process of getting there was just too draining. I eventually grew so frustrated with this artificial environment that I made a firm resolution to only seek out romantic interests in the real world. Whether it’s striking up a conversation at a local bookstore or meeting through mutual acquaintances, I want a genuine spark.

C Sam

I have to admit, using these platforms brings out a side of me that I’m not particularly proud of. When you are presented with a relentless stream of faces, it’s frighteningly easy to become desensitised to the fact that there are real human beings behind the screens. I found myself swiping left and dismissing perfectly nice individuals over the most trivial things—like a slightly awkward smile or a poorly chosen shirt. It’s a harsh reality, but the format of the app forces you to make snap judgements based almost entirely on looks, which leaves me feeling terribly shallow and remorseful afterwards. The longer I spent on the app, the more robotic I became, completely losing my capacity to empathise with the people I was rejecting. I considered deleting my profile several times to escape the guilt, but the fear of missing out always stopped me from actually pressing the uninstall button.

D Chloe

For me, the most draining aspect of online dating is the endless small talk. You can spend weeks investing your energy into witty banter and sharing personal stories with a match, only for the conversation to slowly fade away before a face-to-face date is ever arranged. It’s incredibly demoralising. Even when you do finally manage to meet up, there’s no guarantee that the digital rapport will translate into reality. I’ve been on countless dates where the online banter was fantastic, but the moment we sat down for coffee, there was absolutely zero chemistry, leaving me feeling bitterly disappointed. It’s as if you’ve built up this imaginary persona in your head, and the real human simply cannot compete with it. I’ve thought about going back to meeting people at parties, but my work schedule is so hectic that I’m reluctantly stuck relying on my phone for now.

Exercises:   123456