⚖️ “The Emotional Weight of Being a Little Too Perceptive for This Planet.”

(And why it’s not a flex — it’s a full-time job no one asked for.)

There’s this thing I’ve carried my whole life that I used to think was “too much.”

Too emotional. Too serious. Too deep.

Too sarcastic. Too chatty. Too weird.

Too observant. Too attuned. Too awake in all the wrong places.

I could sit in a room and feel the tension before anyone said a word.

I could hear the sigh behind someone’s “I’m fine.”

I could spot the crumbling behind someone’s smile before they even noticed it themselves.

And for the longest time, I didn’t have a name for it.

I just thought I was a little… different.

Or dramatic.

Or maybe just really, really bad at being super chill.

But the truth is: I’m not dramatic. I’m just absurdly perceptive. Zero off-switch. Zero chill.

Sometimes painfully so.

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🧠 It’s not about being “smart.”

Let’s be clear: this isn’t about IQ, or how many books I’ve read, or whether I could win a trivia night at the local bar (spoiler: probably not, unless the topic is “Why Everyone Is Secretly Sad,” or, “Name Every Lyric in This Tool Song.”)

This isn’t even about “intelligence,” not in the way society likes to define it.

Because intelligence wears different outfits.

Some people are mechanical wizards. Some are emotional empaths. Some can rebuild an engine blindfolded while others can read a person’s entire trauma history by the way they hug.

It all counts.

But this kind of perception — the kind I’m talking about — is often invisible, uncelebrated, and frankly, f*cking exhausting.

It’s the kind of intelligence that notices what no one else says out loud… and feels responsible for it.

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🕊️ The double-edged gift of noticing everything.

Here’s the thing about being deeply perceptive:

You see the cracks before they become chasms.

You read the room before anyone realizes they’re sitting in a storm.

You hear what people aren’t saying. And then you carry it for them, even if they never asked you to.

And while yes, there’s beauty in that — there’s also burnout.

Because when you live like this, every room is a map of unspoken needs.

Every conversation is a puzzle to solve.

And every silence feels like a hidden message waiting to be decoded.

And the kicker?

You rarely get credit for it.

In fact, you often get called sensitive… intense… too much.

You might even get labeled a “people pleaser,” when really — you were just trying to keep the emotional tectonic plates from shifting under everyone’s feet.

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🐘 Loneliness in a crowded room.

Being highly perceptive can also be deeply isolating.

Because when you see more, you feel more.

You’re the person who knows when someone’s energy changes mid-sentence.

Who can tell when a text has a different “tone” than usual — even when there’s no tone in text.

You walk into Target and can feel five other people’s bad days radiating off them like heat.

🎧 Sometimes… I wear my headphones with nothing playing in them just so people leave me alone.

So I can have a moment of peace in public without absorbing every person’s energy like a soaked sponge.

That’s how wired my system is.

I don’t just hear noise — I feel it.

I don’t just see people — I absorb them.

And that’s the kind of fatigue no sleep fixes.

You’re not imagining it.

Your brain just picks up signals most people filter out.

And your nervous system is tired, boy. Phew. So tired.

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💡 So what do we do with it?

Honestly? Some days, I still don’t know.

There’s no off-switch.

No medal. 🏅

No secret club with noise-canceling headphones and weighted blankets (although… we should start one). 🎧

But I’m learning that being deeply perceptive isn’t a curse — it’s a kind of quiet power.

Not a loud, spotlight kind of power.

A soft one.

The kind that heals.

The kind that listens well.

The kind that helps others feel seen in a world that mostly skips past nuance.

And I’m learning, slowly, to hold it differently.

Not as a burden.

But as a gift with boundaries.

A sacred task that doesn’t mean I have to fix everything — just witness it without breaking.

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🫶🏻 If this is you, too…

If you’ve ever been told you overthink…

If you’ve ever walked away from a conversation carrying more than your share…

If you’ve ever felt the sadness in a smile, the fatigue in a “nothing’s wrong,” or the storm in someone’s silence…

You’re not broken.

You’re just a little too perceptive for this planet.

And yeah — it’s heavy.

But it’s also holy.

So take care of your noticing.

Rest your heart.

Put down what was never yours.

And remember — it’s not about seeing less.

It’s about learning how to see without drowning.

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