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I commonly hear I'm much too sensitive.
I also hear I have a habit of treating people like a punching bag.
I try so hard to keep my head straight.
Not to blame; not to assume.
I always try to read people. I always look at body language and listen to tones. I am not kidding—I try and try.
I squish down the missing gaps in my knowledge because "people like me were not raised to have certain skills."
It's hurtful, insulting.
I am not a weak person. I feel things intensely.
Love, Lust, Strength and Sorrow.
I have word vomit, sometimes—
Most often, real vomit during anxiety spells.
I still wake up the next day and persevere.
Pushing, pushing forward.
Trying to brace myself for the next lesson; or battle.
Much like the cribbing under a house while it awaits it's foundation.
Hoping to something, or someone that the teeny-tiny wood pieces and chunks I've stuck together by pressure won't cave under the weight of it all.
The weight of me; my problems, my inaccuracies and my strength.
Sensitivity is not a burden for me.
Sensitivity is my life, my burden, my cross to bear.
My little world, my struggle and my confusion.
Sensitivity provides open doors for love, and compassion and sheer awe; appreciation for things and their existence.
However—it opens doors too wide.
Too wide and the frames almost break. All of the little cracks filled with insecurity, self-doubt and public ridicule.
"You cry too much!"
"What's the matter with ya?"
I feel things. I feel everything deeply.
Perpetual boredom, loneliness, and longing for like-minded people.
I am not too sensitive. You are too cold and aloof.
I am in-tune with the world around me.
My question for you is, Why aren't you?
How do you not see and appreciate everything around you, even if it requires the struggle of being too sensitive? Missing out on the world around you to remain aloof sounds awful. I would rather spend each day feeling like I have had a thousand daggers put in through one side of my body and ripped out the other as long as I understand how my perception works around me. I would rather be lonely. I would rather be desperate. I would rather feel like I am and will not ever be good enough. I want to feel all of that so everything and everyone can feel valued—for just being. Valued for doing small, insignificant acts. Everything has its own self. Its own purpose.
I was born to be sensitive.
I was born to be too sensitive.
Other people, and other objects, can feel valued because of individuals who carry that same burden and choose to shed positivism outward.
Shedding positive energy outward, even when they do not feel positive inside.
Showing love, even when they do not feel loved.
For those individuals who question why sensitive people have a tendency to shy away from being overly social, or overly invested there is a reason.
Every interaction can go smoothly, Every compliment could be made.
We will still feel like we can not, or did not do enough to take a burden off of you.
This means we come off as quirky, or strange. Truth of the matter is—we use those judgments and absorb them into our bodies like a sponge. We feel every negative point that comes out of them and we take it. We take it so that the one making the judgment does not feel ignored or neglected.
It rips our self-esteem apart, and makes our nerves become shot. We still will try to smile at you afterward and you'll get a response similar to "Oh yeah, you're right..." or "Yes I know, I'm sorry."
I would never abandon someone who has wronged me. I would be lifeless. People are a life line. I will remember and reflect how interactions go. If I am too sensitive—I will simply shut off my feelings from your eyesight. This benefits you still. This protects what fragile sense of self I still have. That is why.
That is why you should think twice before you say to someone they are much too sensitive.