For The Misunderstood

There’s a particular kind of loneliness that comes from being misunderstood.
Not unloved. Just unseen.
Like you’re speaking in color and everyone else only hears in grayscale.

You explain yourself.

Soften yourself.

Shape-shift to fit the moment.

You laugh at the right times.

Shrink the sprawl of your soul to stay digestible.

And still, someone always says:
“You’re too sensitive.”
“You’re too intense.”
“You’re just… hard to read.”

They don’t know how much you’ve held back.

They don’t see how many drafts of yourself you crumpled up before speaking.
They don’t know the oceans you’ve swallowed just to appear “fine.”

But I see you.

I see the way you love with your whole chest, even when it’s not returned the same.

The way you notice things others miss—
a shift in tone, a tremble in someone’s smile, the story behind the silence.

You are not too much. You are attuned.
You are not broken. You are wired for depth.

And while that can make the world feel like a storm you’re constantly walking into,
it also means your presence is a shelter.
Your words are balm.
Your love is rare.

Some people won’t understand you. That’s okay.
They weren’t meant to carry your frequency.

But the right ones will find you, those who speak in the same rhythm,
who won’t ask you to explain your softness or sanitize your magic.

Until then, don’t dim. Don’t fold. Don’t make yourself smaller to fit inside someone else’s comfort.

You are not here to be easily understood.
You are here to be true.

And that… that is more than enough.

Stay Weird. Love you. Mean it.
—No Apologies Just Stories.