10.26.22 // I Am Sensitive

I am sensitive.
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My heart, my soul, my feelings.
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It’s something I’ve evolved into as I’ve gotten older.
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Maybe it’s because I’ve let my "people-pleasing mask" fall aside as I’ve gotten older so naturally, I have more conflict because I’m less “palatable,” “understandable,” or “favorable” in my life choices.
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Maybe my sensitivity has always been there but I was so good at drowning her, I never had to hear her screaming when strangers, or worse, people I loved, hurt me.
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Maybe my sensitivity has been coming out more because of my deep fears of not being seen or being seen and not being loved.
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My sensitivity and I have never been friends.
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I’ve pushed my tears away for years, especially if they came up in front of others. I would choke them back and let anger seep forward in their stead. But that anger wasn’t something I was ”allowed” to express but I could at least harness it into something I could move forward with.
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After all, moving forward was always the goal.
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To feel? No.
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Because to feel is vulnerable, and vulnerability can hurt if it falls in the wrong hands.
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But I’m here to tell you I am sensitive and I don’t want to be strong, I don’t want to always grow.
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Sometimes I want to be held.
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Sometimes I want to cry with no need to understand why or see a way to learn from it.
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Sometimes I want to be loving without having to be bold.