You are not misunderstood; you are simply understood correctly and find it unbearable.

The line is for the person who has turned every rejection into a conspiracy against their depth. You arrive at each failed friendship or abandoned project with the same wounded refrain: nobody understands you. It is a flattering story, because it casts you as complicated rather than difficult, mysterious rather than tiresome, ahead of your time rather than simply out of excuses. The less comfortable truth is that people have understood you perfectly. They have read the pattern, recognised the self-absorption, heard the same explanation twice, and made a quiet decision to spend their evenings elsewhere. You were not too deep for them. You were legible, and what they read was not worth the subscription. That is the sting. Being misunderstood suggests a hidden brilliance waiting for the right audience; being understood correctly offers no such comfort. It means the audience arrived, inspected the goods, and declined to buy. The line lands best when you are midway through another speech about how nobody gets you, or when you describe an old friend as threatened by your intensity. Nobody was threatened. They were bored, and they left before you could mistake their departure for proof of your complexity.