"you're too much," your eyes said to me disdainfully. 

"way too much energy," your mouth kept moving. 

i was bewildered and hurt by your words 

because i did not understand how i was displaying 

too much of anything when i was simply 

showing warmth and kindness to you 

after not seeing you for a long time. 

i remember now, why that is. 

you continued to tease and laugh at me, 

making me feel smaller and smaller, 

i wished i could disappear right there on the 

spot, but i just stood there against the wall, 

hoping it would swallow me up. 

you must have noticed my discomfort 

slightly,

because you proceeded to grab my head and yank it 

against your chest, my hair spilling out of your fingers, 

and you laid a sloppy kiss on my head. 

i hated every second of that. 

what were you saying about too much?

I mumbled i needed to go get a drink, 

anything but be here, after feeling verbally insulted 

and uncomfortably accosted..

i blindly made my way over to the high top table 

and there in front of the Lacroix, 

my tears started to spill. 

I stood there, as another kind friend stood with me, 

making me feel less alone, as i tried to gather myself. 

i could not. 

so i excused myself, trying to leave the room 

as the smell of taco meat and lime wafted in the air

oblivious to my plight. 

I escaped to the prayer room, 

and tucked myself behind the curtain 

finally allowing the dam to break. 

i realized why her words cut me so much. 

it was a trigger from high school and middle school 

from being told those very same words 

countless times. 

"you're too much."

"way too loud and energetic."

"settle down."

"tone it down."

all of this and more translated to me, 

you are taking up too much space 

and you don't deserve to do so.

indirect preference signaling: 
when someone chooses you 
in small deniable ways without crossing
a line that they can't walk back.  

 i love having fat conversations with you. 

ben came lumbering in, 

splattering his long limbs 

all over the gray couch 

healing hands

the lights were dim, 

chairs scattered in random places

throughout the room. 

i was standing there, my braid hanging at my back, 

my baby in the front, our hearts touching. 

we both felt heavy, knowing we would be going to the hospital soon, 

we both could not express it fully, 

but we both knew. 

I stood there, as worship music hung low, 

floating to the Father, in remembrance, in reverence, 

in singing prayers..

I felt a strong hand on my shoulder and move down my back 

and begin caressing me in a gentle manner. 

i turned to look, 

and as my eyes traveled up, 

there you were, with compassionate eyes, 

your hand still in the middle of my back, 

i felt my braid move beneath you. 

"We'll be praying for you and Psalm,"

you said softly. 

it felt like you sensed the heaviness too, 

and you willingly leaned forward to touch it 

as you touched me.

and i felt a 

little less 

alone..