I was too young to be so old.
I was too sensitive to be a Prefect.
I was too different to be her friend. I wasn’t different enough.
I was too young for him to want to be with me.
I was too sensible to be her room mate.
I was too sad for them to want to spend time with me.
I was too sad for too long to get the degree they wanted me to.
I was too sad to get the position I applied for.
I had too many holes in my CV to get other roles.
I was too caring to be a good nanny.
I was too young to be an egg donor.
I was too risk-averse to drop everything and travel.
I was too responsible to walk away from mounting debt.
I was too lonely to be any fun.
I was too hormonal to conceive.
I was too experienced to need advice when I had a newborn.
I was polite to tell them otherwise.
I was too naive to realise they were talking about me.
I was too unusual for them to want to get to know me.
I was too quiet to be invited.
I was too different to fit in.
I tried too hard to fit in.
I was too broad to have a niche.
I was too hesitant to be the right fit.
I asked too many questions. I didn’t ask enough.
I am too far away.
I am too close to have perspective.
It takes up too much of my time.
I am too open.
I make too many excuses.
I am too honest. Or not honest enough.
I have too little confidence in myself.
I do too little self-promotion.
I take things too personally.
I worry too much.
I feel too deeply.
I carry things for too long.
I have carried all of this, for all of my life.
I have carried the knowledge that I was always too something to be the right someone.
It makes me too tearful just reading it all back to myself, feeling the pain I have felt over the years, carried over the years. And over time the burden of those rejections has worn me down.
I look at this list of my failings over time. I am all of these things. I am this. This is who I am. This is what makes me the me whose door who is always open, the me that will help when I can, the me that juggles too many balls, the me that loves too much, too hard. The me that cries with you. The me that carries your pain. That is who I am.
I’m sorry if my too much is not enough.