How much is too much?
This is the question that plagues me night and day.
Some say that I love loudly.
Others say that I'm obsessed.
Essentially they mean the same thing, but taste very different coming out of the mouth.
Which is it?
It feels like the latter is true.
Strike that.
I don't feel like the latter is true -
At least not when there are no external forces plunging me into those depths.
I feel like it's the first option.
I feel like I simply love loudly.
Who am I to say though?
My opinion is of no consequence here.
And, truth be told, I am in the minority in that fight.
Outnumbered more than Gideon and his men.
Majority wins.
Majority wins?
Not in this matter.
I don't agree with that.
Once again though...who am I to say?
Those who I am loving loudly are really the only ones that can decide that -
At least that's how it should be.
My opinion on this should be shelved.
Pushed to the back to collect dust and only pulled out from time to time to admire and then to be carefully tucked away yet again.
Treat it as if it's gold.
But remember it as if it's that one stoop that you passed by that one time in 1993 that had that one pink step.
Every once in a blue moon, something jogs your memory and brings that to the fore.
It crosses your mind and then goes right back to where it belongs -
Out of sight.
Influencing nothing.
That's how it should be.
That's how it should be?
That question is irrelevant now.
All that matters is that it happens and everyone, especially those not rightfully entitled to one, has a verdict on this that they have to share.
I understand that they have nothing else to do.
That must be rough.
Nothing to fill their time.
What an awful plight.
My heart goes out to them.
(I hope that sentiment wasn't too much.)
In the end - I say this with all my might, but very little hope -
all that truly matters is that you don't get to dictate how much is too much.