I clearly remember the little girl I used to be. The one who cried when someone raised their voice a little too loud, the one who would get overwhelmed by a kind word or a harsh stare.

Sensitivity (hypersensitivity) was my companion from the very beginning that shaped every moment in my life. It wasn’t easy then. I believed that feeling too much was a weakness, a flaw that set me apart from everyone.

Now, as an almost adult, I weak a mask of this toughness. I speak less about these feelings and more about facts. But beneath this mask, the same  hypersensitive heart still beats — somehow louder. Though I’ve learned to hold back my tears, to swallow the words that want to spill out and to pretend unbothered. But feeling deeply has never left me.

There are moments when a small comment, a fleeting compliment or a glance from someone can pull me back into the world of intense emotion. I replay conversations in my mind, searching for hidden meanings, wondering if I said the right thing or if I hurt someone unintentionally. The weight of these feelings is heavy yet somewhere, beautiful.

I am learning to embrace this part of myself, to accept that feeling too much is not a flaw but a way of being. It means I experience life with a vividness that others might not, and while it can be exhausting, it is also profoundly human.

I’ve learned to live with my sensitivity, not as a weakness but as a part of who I am.

It’s okay to feel deeply, even if it sometimes feels like too much. This is my truth, and it’s enough.