The Weight of Being Misunderstood
I’ve been carrying something heavy for a long time. It’s not just pain—it’s silence. A silence I’ve been forced into by people who should have known me best. Not strangers. Not acquaintances. My own family. I want to be careful here. I’m not writing this to call anyone out or start drama. That’s not my style. I’m writing this because I know I’m not the only one who’s felt this ache—the ache of being so deeply misunderstood by the people who helped shape your beginning. The truth is, they don’t talk to me anymore. And it’s not because of some huge moment or dramatic fallout. It’s quieter than that. It's the quiet that comes from being unseen. From being too different. From not fitting the box they had in mind. They never really got me—not the loud laughter, the sensitive heart, the way I express myself in bright colours and creative chaos. They didn’t understand the way I feel things, how deeply I care, how hard I try. And when someone doesn't take the time to know the real yo...