Too Much
I talk too much,
overshare,
until I overthink and wonder
if it was all too much,
if I am too much,
yet I am compelled to keep going,
to keep the conversation aloft,
to not be boring,
to always say the right thing,
and I do always mean it,
but it all begins to feel like an act,
until I want to make myself small
like I used to when I was younger
and made my voice uncertain
when answering a question
so as to not seem like a know-it-all,
even though I began to doubt myself,
folding myself as small as possible
to make myself more palatable
and more relatable,
no longer aloof on a pedestal,
yet that didn’t change their minds,
for too much time had passed
and despite the self-deprecation,
I kept succeeding and overachieving,
never wanting to fail
and never willing to compromise
my future in order to appease them,
and I hoped that one day,
I would find people who thought
I wasn’t too much, but just right
and respected me without jealousy,
but even now that I have found them
and everyone else has matured,
I still second-guess every sentence,
worry about their reactions,
analyzing my words and wondering
if I’m annoying,
if I’m offensive,
if I’m just too much,
and it’s hard to stop believing it
when I am still compelled to
open my mouth and spill my thoughts,
honest to a fault,
wanting everyone to know the truth
and see if they still love me,
seeking validation and placing
my self-worth in their hands.