"You're too intense."

That was one of the most memorable things I'll ever remember her saying.

Before I get started, though, today's her birthday, and I feel this is an excellent time to send some love quietly. She probably doesn't realize I remembered her birthday, and it's too bad that I haven't heard from her in almost two months to the day. Oh well. Happy birthday. I miss you. I hope you're healthy, I hope you're happy, and I hope you're safe.

She was one of my closest friends and one of the three whom I cried my heart out to after the episode that concluded yesterday's post. Despite being the oldest of the three, sometimes I felt like she was the most naive and not full of understanding, but that never took away from feeling like I mattered to her. Sometimes I can't tell if she was forgetful about what exactly I was so panicked about such that it didn't much affect our day-to-day since, or that she knew what she knew and never changed her belief about me. She was one of my incredibly few people. She was someone whom I could talk to or see regularly, someone to have discussions with about budgeting, food, music, relationships, life, love, sports and all sorts of other things in between. I have a hula-hoop-sized circle of people that I would consider are close to me, and she was way in there, unquestionably the closest one.

Feeling like I matter to someone is often a little badge I wear with quite a bit of pride. In today's world, where spending less than 24 hours a day and less than seven days a week of not doing something productive or contributory is considered an embarrassment, being able to be included in someone's time in any meaningful way has always felt special.

On nights where we would be out, particularly to events at a club where she's often one with a microphone, she would have no fear plugging my relationship status to the crowd. Eventually, it was almost humorous because it simply felt the night wasn't close to being complete until she announced I was single.

Granted, I always appreciated it (with zero results, but I digress). I always felt timid every time it happened, especially when it became expected. I knew it was going to happen, and I still couldn't psych myself up about it.

Has anyone else been on either side of this situation? What happened, and what was the result? I'd love to hear about your experience. On a personal note, if I got asked to go chat up Person X because my friend is super nervous and needs the ice broken, I can do that no questions asked. However, when it comes to my interest, I can barely get engaged, let alone stay engaged.

Easy.

I've grown up as a very guarded and very protective person. I've grown up bottled up with emotional intensity and have struggled to share it freely ever since my first memories. I've grown up feeling like my feelings have been so far off the spectrum to the everyday person, so I have spent nearly the entirety of my life not allowing my emotions to be evident. It was easiest to do that because ultimately it was relatable to whomever it needed to be relatable to, or at the minimum, I would avoid getting told what I felt was wrong.

Without sounding like a psychologist, I can only imagine that spending the near-entirety of my life being emotionally withdrawn means the times I do share, especially to people who consider themselves familiar with me, can feel like a very polarizing experience.

Always on, but always filtered.

It wasn't the first time that I've heard "You're too intense," or "You're too much," or anything of the sort. That said, I've never understood why when I would ask, and I would never get an answer about how it just wasn't the right thing if that makes sense.

Do you know anyone who is "too intense" or "too much?" Is it you? Have you heard those things? How did it feel, and what did you do to handle it?

It is challenging to experience and understand because this is a world where we are supposed to be ourselves and not worry about what other people think. We are supposed to be beautiful, unique creatures who are supposed to embrace what is passionate to us and share it with the world and carry no inhibitions, as long as it gets done healthily, of course.

I asked her what I'm supposed to do if I'm "too intense" because it feels like I need to adjust my way of feeling to satisfy the limits of someone else's understanding. Since that person cannot cope with how I think in a way that is in their spectrum, it's my responsibility to tone down what's passionate to me. It's my responsibility to be less than 100% so that I'm close to the same wavelength as the other person. Can anyone else relate to that, whether it is from feeling filtered or because of needing filters?

I feel I'm labelled as "too intense" because I feel like I see or experience the world in a way that is different from many. It feels like my perception of depth, vibrance, creativity, and sensitivity is wrong or a problem.

"Give it your all," but only until all of you is way too much to be given. How does that make sense? It doesn't.