We all know the phrase: People don’t listen to understand; they listen to respond. But I’m not here to lecture you about that. So relax and smile.
Let’s be honest. We are mysteries, even to ourselves. Some days, I can’t untangle my own thoughts, can’t make sense of what I feel.
So, how could I possibly expect someone else to understand?
How many conversations have you had ( or overheard ) where words were just noise? Where someone was talking, but you were catching everything they weren’t saying?
A flicker in their eyes. The way their fingers fidget. The hesitation before they agree to something they don’t really want.
We like to believe understanding comes from explanations—like if we just say more, reveal more, people will finally get us.
But real understanding?
It’s not in the words at all. It’s in the pauses, in the weight behind a sigh, in the hesitation before a yes, and in the way someone notices when your “I’m fine” isn’t fine at all.
Understanding isn’t neat; it’s messy. It’s someone looking at you and seeing straight through the bullshit, past the carefully rehearsed version of yourself. It’s in the flicker of something raw beneath the surface. The part of you, you didn’t even know was visible.
It’s not about words—it’s an art. The art of being known, seen and felt. And not everyone you run into will be an artist who truly knows how to tune into you.
It’s not about having the perfect response. It’s about presence. About noticing. About sitting in the silence without rushing to fill it. About creating a space where someone doesn’t have to translate themselves into something more digestible.
Some people spend a lifetime together and never truly understand each other. And yet, sometimes ( rarely, beautifully), someone just gets it.
Not because you explained it well, but because they felt it. Because they caught the shift in your voice, the sigh you didn’t mean to let out, the quiet way you pull back when something stings.
To be understood, not explained.
To be felt, not translated.
To be seen—not just in the light, but in the shadows I don’t always know how to name.
And that? That’s connection. The kind that doesn’t need a whole damn speech.
That’s intimacy. The kind I seek.
That’s what I meant. Yes. Intimacy.
The one I’m after.
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