I wrote a sonnet several Springs ago...
A wispy, flimsy thing about the unrequited —
I reread the words that echoed so keenly in my chest then,
“You are too much”
A fiery, repetitive stab to my callow heart at 16
I was haunted forever, it seemed
Remembering it now, I wince.
It’s like the worst song in my high school playlist -
It’s silly, really reading the sonnet now. Believing then that i was “too much.” When in actuality, I was this whole, vibrant, kaleidoscope of a woman who knew exactly how to love with each atom and molecule in her body. // You are never too much.