I typed out a whole paragraph, but then I deleted it.
A whole page of thoughts and feelings I didn’t mean to say out loud
Then backspace after backspace
until it became one sentence that barely said anything at all
It’s not that I didn’t want to say anything or tell you how I felt. It’s that I did
I wanted to pour my heart out to explain every little thing that’s been sitting in my chest
But something in me always whispers “you’re too much”
So, I trim it down
I make it polite. I make it light enough that no one has to carry it but me
Because I don’t want to be the reason someone feels heavy
I don’t want to sound like I’m asking for attention
When really, I just want and need to be understood
So I leave it at “I’m okay”, Or “it’s fine”
Or worse, nothing at all.
And maybe that is the hardest part
Wanting to be seen, but being so afraid of taking up space that you teach yourself to disappear
You convince yourself it’s better to stay small
Better to be easy
Better to pretend the quiet doesn’t ache
But the truth is I don’t want to be easy to love anymore
I don’t want to keep shrinking so other people stay comfortable
I want to send the paragraph
The messy one
The one that says, “I care too much, and I’m scared you will leave if you see all of me”
Because maybe the people who are meant to stay won’t think it’s too much
Maybe they’ll read it all the way through
And understand that sometimes the things we delete
Are the truest parts of who we are
KM