I’m Not Too Much — You’re Under-Built

 

There’s a special kind of silence that happens right after someone tells you,

“Wow… you’re a lot.”

It’s not admiration.

It’s not awe.

It’s the kind of silence where they’re trying to figure out if they should be impressed or intimidated,

and they usually pick the wrong one.

Over in the corner, Lawless is already rolling her eyes so hard her skull nearly cracks.

She mutters, loud enough for the dead to hear:

“Or maybe they’re just built like soggy bread.”

This is why she’s not allowed in diplomacy meetings.

People have been calling me too much for as long as I can remember.

Too opinionated.

Too emotional.

Too determined.

Too chaotic.

Too intense.

Too “big.”

As if the world accidentally ordered a size S woman and I showed up in XXL.

Growing up, I genuinely thought “too much” meant something was wrong with me.

That I should be quieter, softer, simpler.

That femininity was supposed to be a soft-spoken, shrink-to-fit experience.

Meanwhile, Lawless,  even at her youngest, was kicking down doors with her bare feet and using caution tape as a scarf.

But here’s what I eventually realized:

People call you “too much”

when they have not built the emotional, mental, or spiritual infrastructure

to stand next to you without wobbling.

That’s not a you problem.

That’s an under-built problem.

A foundation problem.

A weak structural integrity problem.

A “their soul skipped leg day” problem.

The world loves to diagnose powerful women with personality issues.

Because it’s easier to shrink a woman than it is to expand a worldview.

Lawless snaps a bone in half and points it like a microphone:

“TELL ‘EM THEY CAN’T HANDLE HIGH VOLTAGE.”

And that’s exactly it.

I’m not too emotional,

you’re not emotionally literate.

I’m not too loud, 

you’re just used to silence from women.

I’m not too intense, 

your depth is about ankle-level.

I’m not too chaotic ,

you’re addicted to predictable people.

I’m not too ambitious ,

your dreams come pre-shrunk.

I’m not too much ,

you’re just under-built.

And if you feel personally attacked by that?

Lawless leans in to add:

“Maybe hit the personality gym, babe.”

 

 Let’s Talk About Capacity

Capacity is something people rarely think about, until yours threatens theirs.

Some people have the bandwidth of a damp napkin.

Meanwhile, you’re out here running nuclear power.

Your energy, your ideas, your emotions, your creativity, your presence, all of it takes volume.

And people with low capacity?

They panic.

They freeze.

They mislabel.

They project.

Suddenly, your passion is “dramatic.”

Your boundaries are “mean.”

Your standards are “impossible.”

Your independence is “selfish.”

Your ambition is “unrealistic.”

Lawless absolutely loses it:

“If I had a dollar for every time someone called me dramatic, I’d BUY the sun.”

But here’s the truth:

People who call you “too much” are usually the people who expected you to be less than what you are.

They created a smaller version of you in their mind.

And when you refused to fit inside it, they got offended.

Imagine somebody bringing a thimble to collect ocean water, 

and then complaining that the ocean is “too much.”

That’s what being “too much” really means.

You weren’t built wrong.

They arrived unprepared.

 

 Intensity Is Not a Flaw — It’s a Frequency

Some of us are not meant to live on low volume.

We don’t speak in whispers.

Our existence hums at a different resonance.

Intensity isn’t danger.

Intensity is aliveness.

Lawless jumps into frame like a feral cheerleader:

“LOUDER FOR THE COWARDS IN THE BACK.”

Intensity terrifies people who’ve only ever operated at safe settings.

Meanwhile, you?

You were born with the dial ripped off.

 

 You Don’t Diminish to Fit — They Expand or They Leave

People who are truly meant for you?

They don’t shrink from your magnitude.

They expand beside it.

They evolve.

They grow a backbone.

They build emotional muscle.

They appreciate the current instead of drowning in it.

And the ones who can’t?

They fade out.

They get dusted.

They get benched by the Realm.

Lawless casually swings her crowbar:

“If they can’t hang, they can’t stay.”

You were never meant to compress yourself for anyone.

 

 The Problem Wasn’t “Too Much.” The Problem Was Misalignment.

Let’s be clear:

You weren’t too much.

You were simply in the wrong rooms, with the wrong people, under the wrong expectations.

A wolf in a petting zoo.

A storm inside a snow globe.

A phoenix in a birdcage.

People who crave smallness hate the reminder that bigger things exist.

Lawless interrupts:

“They want a pet. You’re a creature.”

And identity?

Real identity?

It’s not clean.

It’s not soft.

It’s not neatly packaged for public comfort.

Identity is sharp.

Identity is wild.

Identity takes up space.

 

 Ownership Is the Turning Point

At some point, you stop apologizing for your intensity.

You stop shrinking to fit inside fragile spaces.

You stop toning yourself down to make others comfortable.

You realize:

You were intimidating because they lacked courage.

You were overwhelming because they lacked capacity.

You were “too much” because they lacked depth.

Lawless claps sarcastically:

“CONGRATS ON GRADUATING FROM OTHER PEOPLE’S LIMITS.”

 

 Here’s the Final Truth

You’re not too loud.

They’re too quiet.

You’re not too chaotic.

They’re too rigid.

You’re not too emotional.

They’re too numb.

You’re not too intense.

They’re too unfinished.

You’re not too much.

They’re under-built.

And Lawless, perched on a pile of stolen bones, grins like a menace:

“If they can’t handle you, tell them to upgrade… or get out of your way.”

Because the Realm has room for big energy, real identities, feral hearts, wild ambition, and women who refuse to shrink.

And you?

You were never meant to be less.

You were meant to be limitless.

 

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