When You Feel Like the Personification of the Phrase 'Too Much'


My parents at some point must have felt so lucky, that their firstborn daughter would waltz up to stages “too much” — to receive awards, do speeches, perform or present. But when they tried to scold me for the little things, they couldn’t understand why I was always banging my skull against the wall. They didn’t know their words were too dreadful for me, they didn’t know how their actions made me feel unappreciated and lonely.

My high school peers at some point must have felt so lucky to have a friend like me. Someone who could always lead a group or a project. Someone who has “too many” skills and “too much” knowledge to share. But when they saw me with self-harm scars, they couldn’t understand why I still feel empty behind all the accomplishments. Of course, they thought it was just an “emo” phase. They didn’t know that until now, the hollowness still lies within me.

My college mates at some point must have felt so lucky that they found someone super cool to hang out with. They must have enjoyed having someone around with “too much” spontaneity. They laughed at all my misadventures and at my comical miseries. But little did they know, I was dying inside with all the mockery towards my impulsivity. I wish I could control my emotions better. I wish they had known better.

All the men I loved, at some point, must have felt so lucky, because when I fall, I always fall “too hard” and I always pour all of myself — or rather, “too much of myself. But apparently, “too much” is not enough to hold a relationship together. Most of the time I felt like pure havoc and pushed people away too many times. I wish they would have tried to know me better. I wish they took my issues for real, not another petty beg for attention.

This is my life with borderline personality disorder (BPD). But I hope that despite all of these, I do not let the world convince me to strive to be perfect instead of real. I truly hope that someday, somehow, I could celebrate the fact that I may not be for everyone, but I do not have to invalidate my feelings for the people who don’t try to understand. In anything I do, I want to rejoice in the fact that there could be beauty in chaos and it glows inside me. It is going to grow love from thorn and broken glass. I want to come to terms to the idea that I may be the personification of the phrase “too much,” but know that I am still the nebulousness that fills voids. I am still a seed of the universe — and its infinity has enough space for my excessive soul.

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Thinkstock photo via Tishchenko.


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