I’ve never been too much for someone. I’ve been much too little – too quiet, too careful, too private. But I’ve never been too much. This is new.

My honesty drove you out of my life for a while. You were taken aback by the intensity of my caring ways. You were paralyzed by my raw passion and offbeat drive for life. It scared you. You asked me to tear down the walls and then you ran when you found the beast inside.

I love hard, and I refuse to apologize for that. Authenticity is a priority for me, and if you can’t make that work, perhaps it’s best that you stepped away. It’s strange to feel this way – knowing I didn’t slip through your fingers, but rather overflowed and flooded your capacity to love. I shut you down in a way I didn’t know I was capable of. I loved too openly. I expressed it too vibrantly. I was too much.

It’s just further proof that we stood out from the rest. More evidence that something about us, however brief, was meant to be. Because in all my heartaches, I’ve never before been too much.


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