Sometimes, when I lie down to fall asleep and sleep refuses to visit me, I find myself tracing every step that led me to where I am today.
I’ve always been a very sensitive, heart-on-my-sleeve person. It’s something I admire about myself, even if there are moments when I wish I were a little harder, or that my heart had learned to protect itself a little better. I think that’s what makes me such a complicated person. I’ve always cared deeply about others, but I’ve never been willing to abandon myself in the process. I’ll love with everything I have, but I’ll always draw the line when it comes to disrespect or my own boundaries.
Living that way has always felt like a quiet battle between my heart and my mind. My heart wants to understand, forgive, and hold on. My mind reminds me of everything I’ve already survived. Somewhere between the two, I exist.
I think being a complicated person can be exhausting, not only for yourself, but for the people trying to understand you. At first, it’s thrilling. It’s exciting. It’s like riding a roller coaster for the very first time. Every turn feels unexpected, every drop keeps you wanting more. But if you ride the same roller coaster every single day, eventually the excitement fades. The rush becomes overwhelming. What once felt exhilarating starts to feel like too much.
To know me, people at first, are curious. They want to peel back every layer and discover what’s underneath. But the deeper they go, the more they realize there are always more layers waiting. Eventually, they grow tired. Not because there’s nothing left to discover, but because understanding someone as complicated as me asks for more patience than most people are willing to give.
Maybe that’s why it doesn’t matter how people choose to see me anymore. Whether they think I’m too much, too complicated, or too difficult to understand isn’t mine to carry. I’ve spent enough time questioning myself because other people stopped trying to.
The truth is, I know who I am. I know every layer, every contradiction, every part of me that exists at the same time. And if some people choose to stop at the surface, that’s okay. Not everyone is meant to understand me.
At the end of the day, no matter how many layers I have, and no matter how many people decide they’ve seen enough, I’ll still have myself. I’ll still choose myself. I’ll still be there for myself, because I’ve learned that the one person who should never give up on me is me.
