Being Misunderstood is Exhausting

I’ve always known I wasn’t easy to define.

Too expressive for the quiet ones.

Too quiet for the loud ones.

Too spiritual for some.

Too independent for others.

Too soft. Too intense. Too much. Too little.

So they filled in the blanks with their own projections.

They called me intimidating when I was simply sure of myself.

They called me distant when I was protecting my energy.

They called me fake because I didn’t perform my pain publicly.

For a while, I tried to fix it.

Tried to explain, over-explain, soften the truth.

Tried to be palatable. Relatable. Less me.

But I’ve realized:

I wasn’t made to be understood by everyone.

I was made to be authentic.

And that’s not always digestible.

So now I let them misunderstand.

Let them create their stories.

Let them sit with their assumptions.

I’ve made peace with the silence that follows truth.

And I’ve learned that the ones who are meant to understand me…

…won’t need a translation.