being misunderstood all the time especially by the people that are supposed to know me the most.
It’s a strange feeling, to be so well acquainted with someone and yet so profoundly misunderstood. It’s like living with a stranger, a constant reminder that you are not truly known, not truly seen. But still, I hope that someday, someone will come along and see me for who I truly am, and love me despite all the misunderstandings and misinterpretations. Because that’s all I want, isn’t it? To be seen, to be heard, to be understood, and ultimately, to be loved.
Why is it that those who should know me best often seem to understand me the least? How can someone so close feel so distant?
I tried so hard to make them understand, to make them see things from my perspective. I poured my heart out and tried to explain myself, trying to show them the real me. But no matter how hard I try, they just don’t get it. They don’t understand my thoughts, my feelings, my dreams. They don’t get why I do the things I do, why I think the way I think. And it’s not because I’m hard to understand; it’s because they just don’t care enough to try.
It hurts even more when it’s the people who are supposed to know me the best. The people who are supposed to love and support me no matter what. The people who are supposed to see through my tough exterior and understand what’s going on under the surface. But instead, they just judge me, criticize me, and misunderstand me. It makes me feel so alone, so isolated, so misunderstood.
It makes me question if anyone really understands me. If anyone ever will. It makes me feel like I’m constantly putting on a facade, like I’m not being true to myself. It makes me feel like I’m just an outsider in my own life, watching everything from a distance, unable to truly connect with anyone.
And it makes me doubt myself. It makes me question if I’m just overreacting, if I’m just being too sensitive. Maybe they’re right, maybe I am just too hard to understand. It makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with me, something fundamentally broken and flawed.
That’s the hardest part, isn’t it? The doubt, the self-blame, the uncertainty. The constant questioning of myself, of my worth, of my place in the world. It’s tiring, it’s exhausting, it’s soul-crushing.
And yet, I keep trying. I keep hoping that maybe someday, someone will understand me completely. That maybe someday, someone will see me for who I truly am, and love me despite my flaws and quirks. Maybe someday, I’ll find my people, my tribe, and I’ll finally feel seen, heard, and understood.
To be truly seen and understood is a deep human desire. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about being accepted as I am. I hold on to the hope that one day, someone will see beyond the misunderstandings and love me for the person I am, flaws and all.
