It’s nice to be understood. I like being understood.
And I also hate it.
I hate when people, whether or not they actually have, declare that they understand me. It makes me feel like I’m under their thumb, like I’ve somehow lost some sort of agency or independence from being understood.
Sometimes, I like how cold and distant people say I can come across as. To those I’m close to, I’m candid and fairly open. But, when I detect someone trying to crack the shell, I just throw another wall up. Even when I realize they’ve understood the most ridiculous and strange things about me and I know I’m flattered, I just can’t stand it. I feel pinned down.