A lot of everything

People tend to think that I’m a lot. And for so long I thought that meant too much, Because I felt that everybody else had this way of being just the right amount and I did not. That if I was a lot, then I’d be unworthy of ever feeling a friends’ or lovers’ gentle touch.

So I restricted myself to being half of me. Thought that she was the best that I could ever be, Because maybe half of me Was worthy of all their love. Or half of me would feel like just enough. Maybe half of me Deserved the happiness that I had longed to find. Maybe to half of me The world could be just a little bit more kind.

But turns out that half of me meant half of all, Of the happiness, the love, the friends, the life, But still meant twice the fall, On three times as sharp a knife.

So now I try to learn that a lot is very much okay, That it is fine that I just am this way, Because yes my pain can be consuming to me and all that care, And sometimes I just talk a bit too much, or a smidge too loud or with too much of a stare.

I tend to want a bit more than I will ever find And sometimes when I cry I leave whole entire oceans behind. But that doesn’t mean that I am too much for this place. It just means that I am moving at a different pace. That I should look for those who don’t think just my flaws are what’s a lot, But also all the pretty parts I’ve got.

Because my love is just as plenty as my pain, And when everyone’s stopped listening, I promise I’ll remain. And when the world turns dark, I know that I’ll still see the good in you, And a beauty all around, even in the dullest view. My laugh will shake through my entire body, just as my voice sometimes can, And I will have creativity and dreams of a seemingly endless span.

So yes I do think they are right. I am a lot But that’s nothing I should fight.