I used to believe that if I could just perfectly predict how everyone would react to me, I could finally relax. Like, I was solving for the wrong variable. The energy I wasted trying to arrange the world just so, trying to become palatable... it could have built something real. I see now that genuine connection comes from being a little unhinged, a little messy, a little TOO much, and letting the right people stick around anyway. The wrong ones always leave, and that's the point. I burned so many friendships to the ground trying to be someone else's ideal, and now I see that the people who loved me most were the ones I pushed away the hardest. It's a special kind of pain, knowing you were already loved for the 'wrong' reasons, and you STILL couldn't accept it.