I’m too much.
I’ve heard it in every sigh,
seen it in every glance that lingers just a second too long—
the weight of me suffocating the space between us.

I ask for too much,
but it never feels like it.
I don’t ask for the world,
just the bare minimum:
A little attention. A little care.
A little proof that I matter.

But somehow, even that’s too heavy.
Too big. Too loud.

I’ve learned to bite my tongue,
to shrink myself down to something easier to swallow.
Soft-spoken. Simple. Small.
An echo of who I was,
because maybe then,
I’ll be easier to love.

Spoiler alert: I’m not.

I’m always too needy,
too messy,
too complicated.
The kind of person you put up with,
but never choose.
The kind of person you forget as soon as the door closes.

I feel it every time I reach out,
fingers trembling in the dark,
hoping someone will hold on—
only to find the emptiness waiting for me again.

I want to scream,
“I don’t want much!”
Just to feel seen.
Just to not be forgotten.
Just to be the kind of person who matters to someone—
even for a little while.

But I’ve learned how this goes.
I ask,
and I become too much.
I stay quiet,
and I become invisible.

Caught somewhere between being too heavy to carry
and too easy to leave behind.

So, I sit with the weight of it.
The loneliness.
The ache that tells me I’ve always been replaceable.
A body that takes up space
but never quite fits anywhere.

And the worst part?
I still keep hoping.
Still keep waiting for someone to see me
and not run.

Even though I know they will.

They always do.

You are lovely
like birds in winter,
a rare sight when the world has turned its
back.
When solitude slips into
loneliness,
and the echo of forgotten places
becomes a silence so loud
it deafens—
you.
You shouldn’t be here,
but you are.
Fragile and feathered,
defying the dying world
with every beat of your wings.

I’ve shrunk myself before,
folded into corners,
but you—
you are smaller still,
yet somehow
you stand taller than the frozen trees.
You sing in the biting cold,
pirouette on the barren branches,
murmur in the bleakest of skies.

Unshaken by the darkest days,
you’re here to remind me
that something in me is, too.
No matter how dark,
no matter how cold,
no matter how dead it all seems—
there’s always something flying,
something singing,
something alive
in that desolate stretch.

It may seem
small

but,

it’s enough.

Everyone has limits.
It's okay if you've reached yours.
You can close any doors
you've opened.
No matter what people say,
you've got nothing to prove.
Just take life day by day, and someday, you'll find your groove.
I'm not saying it will be easy.
In fact, you'll probably
have some scars.
But if you're going to make it, it'll be because you believe in yourself and trust that you ARE enough

What does it take to truly receive
To feel in your soul what you say you believe
To open yourself to a love so pure
To the power of true love's cure
You say: "Take this, all of you, and eat"
Enter in this house Lord, make me complete
I can be so full of myself sometime
Lord, take hold of this heart of mine
In order to give, I have to receive
I find and peace and my fears are relieved
To receive I have to be vulnerable, exposed
I have to be open wide rather than closed
Open to hurt and scars and pain
But, by your grace, my faith remains
Help me follow you and do your will
Help me receive love so I can give love
Help me know love so I can show love
Help me die for love so I can live love
Help me live in a way that pleases you
To live the Gospel of life and truth
Help me, Lord, to be humble and broken
To be receptive to love so softly spoken
By your grace Lord, I would ask you to allow
Your humble servant here and now
To be an instrument for love and in word
A channel of peace for all that have heard
Take Lord and Receive
All that is within me
Use it all as you see fit
Take it all, the smallest bit
All I ask is your love and grace
A chance to glimpse your face
I need nothing, no other stuff
Only this and it will be enough

Lord, help me love you enough to be comfortable sitting in silence
Lord, help me trust you enough to know when it is time to let go
Lord, help me listen enough so that I recognize the sound of your voice
Lord, help me be strong enough to fight against temptation
Lord, help me be brave enough to stand up for those who cannot
Lord, help me be open enough to receive you fully into my life
Lord, help me be wise enough to make good choices and speak carefully
Lord, help me find you enough to fulfill the longings of my heart
Lord, help me find joy enough to feel so fully and wonderfully alive
Lord, help me forgive enough by remembering how you forgave
Lord, help me fall enough to be more in love with you each day
Lord, help me be enough to do your will and make you smile
Lord, would you be enough to sit with me for a while?

Amen

i guess all those nights i spent studying
just weren't worth it.

and the hot flashes of nausea that kept me from sleeping
were just warning me of my incapacity.

and my cuticle-less fingers that dripped blood on the exam paper
must not have been wanted it enough.

and my stupid brain was foolish enough to believe that
i'd "done my best"
(was it? was that all i could have done? ever?)

god what was the point of it.
god it's not even that big of a deal.
god you're just stupid and you're inefficient.
god maybe you should have just done better
god you just can't get it can you
god if this is hard, imagine college
god stop! stop hitting your wrist against the table, it's not helping!
god google it, can you lose your academic gift?
god imagine their faces when they see your score
god how will you hide it now
god help me i can't go back don't make me go back please please
god wow you really thought you did well you thought you earned it
god what if you didn't care about it, then it wouldn't matter
god imagine that, you don't study, and all the expectations are gone
god imagine that, you don't try.

you don't try.

oh.

maybe i shouldnt try anymore maybe i shouldnt try anymore maybe i shouldnt try anymore maybe i shouldnt try anymore maybe i shouldnt try anymore i shouldnt try anymore i shouldnt try anymore i shouldnt try anymore i shouldn't try i shouldn't try i shouldn't try i shoudn't try i shouldn't try i shouldn't try i shouldnt try i shouldnt i shouldnt i shouldnt i shouldnt

The fog slowly slips away as I figure out what to say.
Putting pen to paper or voice to words to ensure that I. AM. HEARD.

Though this vice may be small,
I have hopes that I can reach you all.

Don’t be scared of what people think. Let your words fly not sink!

You are beautiful!
You are loved!

But most of all ….

You are ENOUGH.

Encorporations, Liebling --
Weforms, y bubbles in being buvvles.
Ancient knowing, long sacred, hidden,
as with the legend of confused names,

Epimythiums accosting promethean bets,

day and night, eat  your heart out, free
from regrets, satisfied mind, okeh, free

to act as agent
for lady liberty, here post feudal self,

as discovered in a canyon, much the same
as Sha'gri La from story, Havasu Canyon,
as home of a boy I knew, whose grandfather

had made peace, with good intention,
to remain in Supai until the end of time,

then, there come the missionaries, guessing
Victory in Jesus would rouse the innocents
to repent for never having imagined Hell,

as sure as can be made believe,
by **** sapien innocents,

never led by setters free,
into known uses
of old Eber clan ever words,
otherwise, still, small, breather thinking ideas,

whims like what if this is that, and we ready,
readers like think as fast as we can write,
as if we have been taught to dance
as when we drum along and dance

in mindful memorizational motivational wills,
to live the story we form as our weform agrees,

these are the realms of spirits, these are words
enough for the wise in any situation, sent, willing

to breathe, and feel, the whole wind working bit,
the smoke you may use, indeed, see believing
work out a salve for that itching ear, feeling

we form on-demand, at hand, at touche', indeed,
doing done, done did get done, this away from that,

back to the future,
through common senses used,
globally translatable
with Google Translate, using

copy and paste
of encoded letting out of dogmen,
from another mindform mingled

with mine, shall we

imagine Ancestory.com as a technology needing a lie,
to make believers
in what DNA can prove today,

if we go back far enough,
we were masters or slaves, and masters knew,

what slaves were not at liberty
to know,

without former knowers telling, so

dystopia ontological negative hope,

the princess and the pea, and me,
the wildass idea,
in the vineyard,

as the a sunbeam purpled
in a cluster

carried me
in a reverie
of poetic grandeur

indeed, into the afterward, ward after last.