Too Much for the Wrong Heart

I used to wonder if I loved too hard. If I cared too deeply. If maybe, just maybe, I was the problem.

He made me feel like I was.

It started subtly. A delay in responses. A forgotten detail I had shared the night before. A look that lingered a little too long on his phone instead of on me. At first, I made excuses for him—work was stressful, he was tired, he just needed space. I was understanding. I always tried to be understanding.

Because that’s what love is, right? Compromise. Patience. Effort.

But what happens when you’re the only one putting in the effort?

I showed up. Every time. I remembered his favorite drink order. I sent good morning texts and check-in calls on his long days. I held space for his fears, insecurities, and past heartbreaks. I cheered for him louder than anyone.

But when it was my turn to unravel—when I needed to be held, seen, heard—he vanished.

Not physically. He was still there. Sitting next to me on the couch. Laying beside me in bed. But emotionally? He was a ghost. Present, but absent.

Whenever I expressed a need, I was "too sensitive."
Whenever I asked for clarity, I was "too demanding."
Whenever I wanted deeper connection, I was "too intense."

Too much. Too much. Too much.

And he? He was just tired. Or “not built like me.” Or “doing his best.”

I began shrinking myself. Talking less. Asking for less. Needing less.
Because I thought that maybe if I became less, he could give more.
But he didn’t.

He never had more to give.

And I finally realized—he wasn’t a bad person. He was just unequipped. Emotionally unavailable. Emotionally stingy. He wasn’t withholding because he hated me. He was withholding because that was his capacity.

He couldn’t meet me where I was because I was on a level he had never been willing to climb to.

And so, I had to choose:
Stay small so he could stay comfortable,
Or grow and risk outgrowing him.

I chose myself.

I walked away. Not because I didn’t love him—but because I finally started loving me more.

I realized I wasn’t “too much.” I was just too much for him.
Too expressive for someone who feared vulnerability.
Too honest for someone who hid behind half-truths.
Too emotionally rich for someone who budgeted affection like a scarce commodity.

And that’s not on me. That’s not my burden to carry or fix.

We talk so much about compatibility in terms of shared interests, attraction, or chemistry. But emotional compatibility? That’s the foundation. And when one person is building a palace and the other is bringing toothpicks, the structure will never stand.

I needed more.
And there’s no shame in that.

Wanting deep connection doesn’t make you needy.
Wanting consistency doesn’t make you demanding.
Wanting communication, support, and emotional presence doesn’t make you too much.

It makes you aware.
It makes you whole.
It makes you ready.

He wasn’t ready. Maybe he never would be.

And I stopped waiting for him to catch up.
Because love shouldn’t be a project or a performance.

It should be a partnership.

Since walking away, I’ve learned this:
The right person won’t be scared of your depth.
They won’t flinch at your passion or silence your emotions.
They won’t ration out affection like a reward you have to earn.

They’ll see your “too much” and say, finally, someone who feels like I do.
Someone who doesn’t just want love, but wants it to mean something.

And until that person shows up, I’ll keep giving myself the love I tried to give him.
Because I deserve that kind of love, too.

So, if you're reading this and wondering if you're the problem—if you’re questioning your worth because someone made you feel hard to love—let me tell you what I wish someone had told me:

You’re not too much.
You just had too much heart for someone who didn’t know how to hold it.

Don’t dim your light for people who wear sunglasses in the sun.

Shine anyway.

Thank so much for reading 🥰! If you like my story please leave a comment. Thanks ❤️