It's too much.
Maybe I feel too much.
Maybe I am too much.
Do I hear, or see too much?
Are you too much?
I'm not ready.
Maybe.
For you. For me. For us.
But mostly me.
I'm too much.
So I think by not thinking.
And I think it's too much.
But I think that we're just fine.
I think that it's enough.
Maybe.
We're a flawed perfect.
Maybe I love you.
I feel too much.
I am too much.
I hear, and see too much.
But you're not too much.
So I'm ready. For you. For me. For us.
But mostly us.