Member-only story
I’m Too Much
Or perhaps not enough
but i am still me
I feel too much. I don’t speak enough. I have a heart too big for my own good. I have too few belongings in my possession. I remember the insignificant details that open my eyes to a whole new world. I forget what day it is, and all too often. I explore beyond the realm of what’s truly here. I don’t adventure enough alone, through the woods and seas and mountains and trees. I see what most fail to, and not because my glasses are so fucking huge. I don’t watch the flags turn from white to red, the longer I fall deeper and deeper.
Some say I’m too much.
Others say I’m not enough.
But what the fuck do either of those statements even mean?! I mean, truly? What’s too much? What’s not enough?
I live inside this world of positivity and unrealistic truths. I pretend the world is made of only good, and that no one will ever hurt me. I give second, third, fourth, fifth and so on, chances, even to those who most likely aren’t deserving of my time. I believe the words spoken to me, even if my gut feeling suggests they’re sweet little lies, veiled behind ill-intent and malice. I wear rose-colored glasses, hoping for optimism and fairy-tale endings.
