They don’t like you.
They don’t even really dislike you.
They are scared of you because your are different. Sonner or later different scares them.
You move different. You think different. You show up in ways that don’t fit the usual pattern. And that kind of different — the kind that doesn’t wait for a green light or try to blend in — it can throw people off.
It’s not personal. Even though, yeah, sometimes it feels personal.
You speak up when most people stay quiet.
You start things before they’re “ready.”
You skip the asking and go straight to building, making, doing.
You move.
While they’re still thinking about it.
And they feel that shift. They might not say it out loud, but something in them… changes. A tiny discomfort. A reminder they didn’t ask for.
Most people carry quiet dreams.
Half-finished ideas.
What-ifs they’ve tucked away for “someday.”
And then you show up.
Not waiting.
Not asking.
Just doing it.
Messy, maybe. Not perfect. But moving. And that movement? That’s the thing. It stirs something in people.
Not because you’re trying to show off. But because you’re showing what’s possible. And once they see it’s possible… they can’t pretend it’s impossible anymore.
That’s why they sometimes get quiet when you talk about what you’re making. That’s why they change the subject or give you a weird look.
It’s not because they want you to fail. It’s because you make them notice the stillness in their own life.
You didn’t set out to challenge them — but your life does. Simply by living it your way.
So no, they don’t dislike you. They’re just not sure what to do with that part of themselves that wishes they were doing what you’re doing… but hasn’t yet.
You’re not the problem.
You’re just proof.
And sometimes proof is… uncomfortable.
But that’s not yours to carry.
You didn’t come here to keep people comfortable. You came here to see what’s possible. To try stuff. To make a mess. To figure things out while your hands are still shaking.
Because here’s the thing: nobody really feels “ready.” The timing never magically lines up. And if you wait for permission, you’ll be waiting forever.
So you stopped waiting. You just started. Not perfectly. Not even confidently some days. But you moved anyway.
And every time you do, you remind people — without even meaning to — that their excuses are paper-thin. That the door they’ve been staring at? It’s been unlocked the whole time.
That’s why they sometimes keep their distance. Or act a little strange. It’s easier to say “you’ve changed” than to admit they’ve stayed the same.
You’re not here to be liked by everyone. You’re here to build the thing only you can build. To say the thing you’d regret not saying. To live in a way that feels honest to you, even if no one claps.
And someone is watching. Not to judge — but to see if maybe it’s possible for them too. And when they finally move, finally start, finally speak… they’ll remember you.
You’ll have been the proof they needed. The reminder that different isn’t wrong. It’s the only thing that ever really changes anything.
So no — they don’t dislike you. They just haven’t found their way yet.
And that’s fine. You have yours.
Keep walking it.
