For The Girls Who Feel They’re Too Much Or Not Enough

Paul Green
Paul Green

I’m always too much.

Or not enough.

I’m that Sunday summer afternoon with a high of 95 and humid; sweat dripping down your temple because the ac in the car is broken. Even in the evening when the sun goes down, the asphalt driveway still feels warm under bare feet and you go to bed with the windows open and fans on full blast, to save money on your utility bill…and slowly through the night take off your clothes piece by piece until you wake up naked to that burning hot sun shine climbing in through your window. Too much.

Or I’m that night where the cold seems like it’s settled in your bones and no matter how many layers you bundle yourself up with, you still shiver. Two layers of socks, a cup of warm peppermint tea, and a heating blanket resting over your shoulders…you still feel cold. The heat in your apartment isn’t working. The hot water runs out in five minutes. The winter wind sounds like it’s going to blow down your thin apartment walls. You go to bed hugging yourself as if you are holding your rib cage together from falling apart, trying to keep what little heat you have inside from escaping into the night air. Not enough.

I don’t know if I’ll ever find someone
who doesn’t complain when it’s too hot outside and the ac in their car is broken. They just roll down the windows and smile because they can still blast their radio as loud as they want and the faster they drive the more of a breeze they feel rushing through their hair. Someone who may hate the hot sidewalks but loves the feel of freshly cut summer grass on bare feet. Or someone who will recognize the hot summer nights as an excuse to get naked together, sweaty and all.

I don’t know if I’ll ever find someone
who stops on their walk to their apartment from their car after a long day of work just so they can catch snowflakes on their tongue and laugh at the fact that they can see their breath freeze in the air. Cold apartments just mean more chances to try new tea combinations. Someone who hates how the hot water runs out so fast, but knows it’s all the more reason to shower together. Or someone who will recognize those cold winter nights as an excuse just to hold each other closer.

I compare myself to these extremes because that is truly who I am.

I’m too much when I talk about how I care for you, because I’ll lay it all bare.
It may take me a beer or three…but when my feelings surface they are intentional and intense. Holding back is not in my nature. When I kiss I kiss hard. When I love I love hard. When I’m angry I can see nothing but red. Curse words roll off my tongue as if I was born a sailor at sea. When I’m sad I’ll cry, I don’t care where or when or who is around. When I’m happy I’ll have the loudest, most distinct laugh in the room. And maybe I’m over dramatic but I’ll probably decide that every night we lay in bed together and laugh will always be the new best night of my life.

I’m not enough because I’m selfish. Sometimes on the days you just may really need me I may not know just how to love you. If I decide I want to be alone I’ll turn my phone on do not disturb for days and speak only to my mother (in one word sentences) I will always feel that everything I’ve done in my life isn’t quite enough. That there’s more to be found. That I’m somehow always lost in a way. That there’s someone you could love who would be smarter, more graceful, less reactive, more beautiful, and who wouldn’t steal your covers at night and wake you up at 3 am when she’s having nightmares. Someone who could give you…more.

I just want someone who will embrace the too much. And still love the not enough. Who sees the good in the bad. Who sees the good in me. Because I’m too much. Or not enough.
Because anything in between is foreign to me. I don’t know how to be any less intense of a person.

And even if I could turn myself down…turn myself up…I’m not sure I would want to. I’m guess just waiting for someone who looks at life as much of an adventure as I do. And will see the same adventure in me. TC mark

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