on the nature of s e n s i t i v i t y

l i s t e n

there is a  c u r s e  that is put upon a few of us. at least that is what I call it. its sullen name is
s e n s i t i v i t y
and it is chronic. perhaps even terminal. 
I spend most of my days trying to be rid of it. escape. but not this day. this day I embrace. and I ponder. what if I am not a creature.

your needs are their second thoughts. a deep conversation you desperately need to feel  c o n n e c t e d  is just another insignificant moment of communication to them. because they don't think like you do. 

how sick I am of telling myself that.

t h e y   d o n ' t   t h i n k   l i k e   y o u   d o. 

you are called passive aggressive, over dramatic, too emotional when you  o p e n  u p.  but when you so perfectly care for and translate and cradle your loved one's emotions you are called wonderful, loving, an otherworldly listener.
                       
                        s o,
it is only good when it is not yours. 

your sensitivities are not valued yet art that people praise and marvel at is born from those same uncared for sensitivities. 
                       
                         s o,
it is only loved when it is not a burden.

finding someone who lets you work through the steps of your emotions without judging you or pressuring you is rare and more often than not anyone who understands is someone like you

which leads me to wonder

how difficult is it to extend the courtesy of understanding beyond themselves to you?
because

I feel like that is all I do.

I often understand what someone is feeling before they do, yet even with an explanation of why I am feeling what I feel I am still told that
                                                                                    it
                                                                                           is
                                                                                                gnorw | wrong

which prompts me to ask them

does it really matter if I am not supposed to feel what I am feeling? if it is not supposed to rain it does not change the fact that it is still  p o u r i n g  down. 

but I do not ask. I never do. 

because what is the use?   i f  t h e y   c a n n o t   s e e   t h e   r a i n   a t   a l l   &  t h e r e   a r e   f e w   w h o   w i l l   t a k e   y o u r   w o r d   f o r   i t

shame. pain. self denial. loneliness. self silencing. overthinking. fear of reactions.

in translation   a  c a g e. 

is the home, the everyday place of a  s e n s i t i v e. 

and the trapped words, the stagnant emotions, the secret feelings turn your insides to rot. 

so that they can like you. so that they will accept you. so that they will not tell you to stop feeling. 

s e n s i t i v e s  cannot stop feeling. anymore than we could will our hearts to stop beating. our lungs to cease their swelling. so why do they keep asking. keep expecting. keep wishing we would   w i l t. 

what if I am not a creature. 

what if

I am  

just as I 

should be.