We don’t need an introduction because I know you. I get you. How you think, feel and experience the world. Our stories are entwined. We’re unique but we’re the same.
Even if our paths never actually intersect, we are in this together. Because I see through your lens. I understand.
Isn’t it refreshing to be known?
It has been for me because I didn’t feel known. Not for decades. People made the effort, but I recoiled from their advances. I mistrusted proximity, so I deflected it. The closer someone inched, the more suspicious I became. It was only a matter of time until they learned the truth.
That I was too much for them to handle. And not enough for their approval. So I was caught in the tension, stretched between incompatible forces that somehow merged inside me.
Too much and not enough.
At. The. Exact. Same. Time.
Does that sound familiar? Can you relate?
You’re the girl who shrinks down and folds in because your presence is inflated. Supercharged. Excessive. More than anyone can endure. Or so you might assume. You squelch the wildness, the overabundance which threatens to spew out. You barricade the leaks and fissures, but still you have to wonder: Am I uncontainable? Is it all too damn much?
You’re also the girl who makes an entrance with your tattooed arms, crimson lips and four-inch heels because without the extra trimmings, you couldn’t measure up. Ignored. Irrelevant. Insignificant. That’s how they might label you. If they even notice you. And now the question remains: Do I walk around unseen? Is any of this enough?
But hey, no judgment. I feel you, sister. I have been there—tattoos and all. I know the contention, the confusion you’re up against. That shame of occupying more space than anyone deserves. That fear of vanishing through the cracks, withering into obscurity.
That push and pull.
Two polarized sides of one identical coin.
What if I told you something different? What if I introduced a new concept into our discussion? What if I leaned in and murmured just for you to hear: You’re not both. You’re neither.
There could never be too much of you. The world pants for an unbridled, authentic human with eccentricities that are yours alone, freebird. And since we’re on the subject, you are more than enough for this moment. In the packaging you came with—no enhancements needed.
You can shrink down or surge forward. Inhabit all the space you want. Humanity will recover. I promise they’ll survive.
Mute the volume or make some noise. Assert your presence in a crowded room or amble through the backdoor. You’re no greater or smaller of a person, whatever route you choose.
Who are you then? Too much? Not enough?
Pause. Timeout. Wrong question, remember?
Girl, you are yourself. No more. No less. Just this. Whole, broken, imperfect, exquisite. And that is all you’re required to be.