I am too much. I am too loud, too brash, too direct. I am also too deep, too intense, too intuitive. I know all of this because I have been told all of this, time and time again.
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Right away, I should confess: I am a compulsive declutterer, a thrower outer, a ‘Mom! What did you do with my (whatever)?’ Not because of some spartan views on life (I love nice stuff), but a lifelong habit of perpetual moving: since the day I was born I have moved every three years of my life.
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I am sweet, warm and kind. I flash my smile to everyone I meet and for the most part, it’s genuine. (Admittedly, there are times I hide behind my smile, but overall, I’m a relentless optimist.) Lurking within me, however, is a bully.
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Bittersweet too small a word for when fierce pride and immeasurable joy crash into inconsolable sadness. But it’s all I’ve got for now. Congratulations, Graduates.