I am too much of everything
and somehow
not enough of anything.

I sleep too late,
put too much sugar in my coffee,
have too many shoes,
say too many things,
and hold on for much too long.

I am a mixture of the things I want and need,
the things that mean nothing and everything.
I am passionate about many unimportant things
and woefully apathetic about the issues that truly matter.

I fall in love 3 times a day
and often forget to brush my hair.
I am too loud
and I talk too much
and I have too many opinions about things
I know nothing about.

I romanticize people and books,
foreign countries and fictional characters
to the point where they may all be
figments of my imagination.

I am entirely made up
of quotes and song lyrics,
2am phone calls and long lost dust jackets
from books I know better
than my own soul.

I do not know answers
to questions like
where,
or when,
or how,
but I know
with some certainty,
that I am too much for you.