user19838: I like the way this site tries to focus on practical advice so I have a specific question concerning compassion.
I have a close person that used to be closer in the past. Mainly I distanced somewhat because I can not really avoid to feel annoyed by some of their behaviour. I often describe them as a 'loud' person, but it is not only a problem of noise but of noticable behaviour.
Things like walking, eating and laughing loudly, taking as much room as possible if standing or sitting somewhere, excessive gestures while talking and so on.
Also they spend a probably unhealthy amount of time with consuming and producing social media.
I feel like the person has a hole inside them to fill somehow but I don't know the specific origin of their suffering. And I believe giving attention won't solve the problem.
Advice on compassion seems to focus on mostly revenge-relevant extreme themes like violent pirates.
This person has not harmed me in any form, still I can not really sympathize with their position.
Do you have any advice on how to develop compassion instead of annoyance? How come people can take what is considered 'mine' without me getting angry at them or frustrated about the loss but I can not bear somebody seeking my and the worlds attention?

user16635: Ah, the story of the Bengali Tea Boy:

When the great Buddhist teacher Atisha went to Tibet [...] he was told
the people of Tibet were very good-natured, earthy, flexible, and
open; he decided they wouldn’t be irritating enough to push his
buttons. So he brought along with him a mean-tempered, ornery Bengali
tea boy. He felt that was the only way he could stay awake. The
Tibetans like to tell the story that, when he got to Tibet, he
realized that he need not have brought his tea boy: the people there
were not as pleasant as he had been told -- Chödrön, Pema, "Start
Where you Are" (1994) 83–84

Being loud is an expression of life: a way of experiencing one's own existence in the reflection of others. It's a bit like screaming 'Hello!" off a cliff, and thinking that the echo that comes back is the mountains acknowledging you. Being quiet is a different expression of life: a way of experiencing one's own existence directly, internally. And note that it's not quite as clean-cut as it sounds; I've known people who meditate in an extremely loud, self-directed manner, and others who are thoroughly outgoing with a quiet, self-knowing grace.
Suggest to your friend that s'he sit with you, so that s'he can grapple with the vicissitudes of quietness. And remember that it isn't h'er loudness that disturbs you, but the loudness s'he triggers inside of you. Grapple with your own disquiet, and no outer noise can disturb you.

user19778: I have had similar experiences of both - being the observer (the quiet one) and the performer (the loud one) - neither is wrong. However, what a wonderful opportunity to practice compassion 

19838: <p>I like the way this site tries to focus on practical advice so I have a specific question concerning compassion.</p>
<p>I have a close person that used to be closer in the past. Mainly I distanced somewhat because I can not really avoid to feel annoyed by some of their behaviour. I often describe them as a 'loud' person, but it is not only a problem of noise but of noticable behaviour.
Things like walking, eating and laughing loudly, taking as much room as possible if standing or sitting somewhere, excessive gestures while talking and so on.
Also they spend a probably unhealthy amount of time with consuming and producing social media.</p>
<p>I feel like the person has a hole inside them to fill somehow but I don't know the specific origin of their suffering. And I believe giving attention won't solve the problem.</p>
<p>Advice on compassion seems to focus on mostly revenge-relevant extreme themes like violent pirates.
This person has not harmed me in any form, still I can not really sympathize with their position.
Do you have any advice on how to develop compassion instead of annoyance? How come people can take what is considered 'mine' without me getting angry at them or frustrated about the loss but I can not bear somebody seeking my and the worlds attention?</p>
 16635: <p>Ah, the story of the Bengali Tea Boy:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>When the great Buddhist teacher Atisha went to Tibet [...] he was told
the people of Tibet were very good-natured, earthy, flexible, and
open; he decided they wouldn’t be irritating enough to push his
buttons. So he brought along with him a mean-tempered, ornery Bengali
tea boy. He felt that was the only way he could stay awake. The
Tibetans like to tell the story that, when he got to Tibet, he
realized that he need not have brought his tea boy: the people there
were not as pleasant as he had been told -- Chödrön, Pema, &quot;Start
Where you Are&quot; (1994) 83–84</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Being loud is an expression of life: a way of experiencing one's own existence in the reflection of others. It's a bit like screaming 'Hello!&quot; off a cliff, and thinking that the echo that comes back is the mountains acknowledging you. Being quiet is a different expression of life: a way of experiencing one's own existence directly, internally. And note that it's not quite as clean-cut as it sounds; I've known people who meditate in an extremely loud, self-directed manner, and others who are thoroughly outgoing with a quiet, self-knowing grace.</p>
<p>Suggest to your friend that s'he sit with you, so that s'he can grapple with the vicissitudes of quietness. And remember that it isn't <em>h'er</em> loudness that disturbs you, but the loudness s'he triggers inside of you. Grapple with your own disquiet, and no outer noise can disturb you.</p>
 19778: <p>I have had similar experiences of both - being the observer (the quiet one) and the performer (the loud one) - neither is wrong. However, what a wonderful opportunity to practice compassion </p>
