✦ Act I: Personal Sovereignty

I stand my ground. I’m no longer willing to repeat myself in a thousand different ways, only to be misunderstood— misread, miscast, or spun into someone else’s narrative. I know now: no matter how carefully I speak, some will twist my words, returning them to me as blame, as fire, as distance.

So I step away.

I step away from that life— from the life of blame, the life of being too much, too intense, too sensitive, too anything.

I step away from the noise that makes me doubt my own heart. Because I can no longer hold safe space for myself in that storm. And right now, that’s what matters most— safe space for me.

Sometimes, I tell myself that my inability to tolerate other people’s emotions is what’s wrong with me. But that’s not the truth.

It means I’m sensitive. Maybe I’ve been the emotional container for too many people, for too long. Maybe I was never taught how to be with someone else’s pain without making it my own. Maybe my nervous system is just asking for more space.

What if it’s not “inability,” but a call for boundaries? What if it’s not “wrong,” but wounding that’s finally surfacing to heal?

Here’s a reframing I’m learning to hold close:

“I’m learning how to be with other people’s emotions without abandoning myself. It’s hard sometimes, and I don’t always get it right— but I’m not broken. I’m growing.”

And sometimes, the challenge isn’t too many emotions, but not enough. What do you do when you care deeply—and the person in front of you feels like a robot? Emotionally flat. Distant. Unavailable. When every word bounces off a wall of silence or cold logic?

You observe without absorbing. You love without rescuing. You stay rooted, even when they drift. You stop shrinking to keep the peace, and start honoring your own emotional truth.

Because presence is not the same as connection. And love without resonance is not love—it’s longing.

So I choose peace.