You start explaining yourself before anyone even asks. You overthink how you’re perceived. You apologize for your excitement, your opinions, your ambition, your emotions. You become hyperaware of taking up too much space

You begin believing that love and acceptance are something you have to earn by becoming easier to digest

You crave the intimacy of being understood because, for so long, understanding felt like permission to exist as you are

Until one day you realize that freedom isn’t finding someone who finally “gets” you. It’s giving yourself permission to stop shrinking, even if they never do

For a long time, I thought being understood was one of the highest forms of love. But I've realized my attachment to it came from somewhere else. If someone finally understood me, it felt like proof that I was acceptable as I was. But that's a heavy thing to ask another person to carry. Now I don't need someone to perfectly understand me in order to feel close to them. They don't have to see every layer of me, interpret every thought correctly, or validate every part of my experience. I've realized that peace doesn't come from finally finding the person who understands you. It comes from no longer needing your existence translated to feel worthy of being loved