I'm Not Fighting Just to Fight

I fight to exist on my own terms

People don’t always mean harm when they say it.

Sometimes it’s a quiet suggestion, offered like care:

“You’re always in fight mode.”

“Maybe you’re too sensitive.”

“Could it be that you’re reading too much into things?”

And maybe I am.

But I’ve learned to ask: what’s the cost of not reading into things at all?

The truth is, I didn’t become this way because I like conflict. I became this way because silence didn’t keep me safe. Because being agreeable never stopped people from crossing my boundaries. Because some of us had to learn how to speak with precision—not to attack, but to survive.

So no, I’m not fighting just to fight. I’m defending my right to exist on my own terms.

There’s a difference between being critical and being clear-eyed. Between being dramatic and being done pretending everything is fine. Between being difficult and being awake.

I think it’s easy to call someone “too much” when they stop hiding what hurts them. When they say “no” without apology. When they name what others were hoping would stay unnamed.

But that doesn’t make them angry. Or broken. Or wrong. It makes them honest.

And sometimes honesty looks like resistance. Especially in a world that’s more comfortable with performance than truth.

So if you’ve ever been told you’re too sharp, too intense, too ready to see the cracks—maybe it’s not that you’re always in fight mode.

Maybe you’ve just stopped pretending that the water isn’t rising.