“Yes, I Did Just Feel the Vibe Shift Before You Even Opened Your Mouth”
Your mind moves faster than everyone else’s.
You’ve already asked the question, answered it,
debated all 73 possible outcomes,
and written a detailed pro/con list
before they even blink.
You can sense people’s energy before they walk in the room.
You feel their intentions like a spiritual FBI agent with no days off.
Honestly? It’s exhausting.
You’re not paranoid—you’re just rarely wrong.
Some days, you’re crushing life.
Color-coded calendar. 14 tasks checked off before 10am.
You’re unstoppable.
The CEO of Functioning.
Other days?
You are undone by a sock seam.
Your shirt tag is trying to assassinate you.
Your own hair is touching your neck,
and suddenly you’d rather walk into traffic than continue.
You either run the world or cry in a pile of laundry.
There is no in-between.
Socializing? A fun game called:
“Am I being too much, or are you just incredibly boring?”
People say, “You overthink everything.”
As if that’s an insult.
Sweetie, I overthink your childhood trauma,
your relationship patterns, and your microaggressions
before you’ve even finished your iced coffee.
They tell you to stop analyzing.
To chill.
To slow down.
But slowing down means sitting with your emotions,
and that’s where the real horror lives.
They say you’re intense.
Too deep.
Too sensitive.
Too everything.
But maybe—just maybe—
you’re not too much.
Maybe they’re just trying to vibe in 2D,
and you exist in full-blown IMAX.
Sure, you come on strong.
You fall in love with people’s potential,
offer to rewrite their inner child’s origin story,
and bake them banana bread before the second date.
Yes, you cry over grocery store music.
Yes, you’ve had at least one panic attack over a group text.
Yes, you’ve ghosted someone because their energy was “off.”
But you also make children feel safe,
animals follow you like a Disney princess,
and you can diagnose a stranger’s attachment style
in under 12 seconds.
You don’t want to be seen as fragile.
You want to be handled like a bomb—
not because you’ll explode,
but because you could rebuild civilization
if you ever did go off.
People always want to swim in your depth—
until they realize they forgot their emotional life vest.
Then they call you “too much”
as they flail in your waves
and you just float there, silently wondering
how the hell you attracted another adult who never learned to swim.
But here’s the truth:
You weren’t made for shallow waters.
You were made for rip tides and revolutions.
And if they can’t handle that?
Float on, my chaotic little storm cloud.
Float. On.
I HAVE TOO MANY FUCKS TO GIVE 