I'M SORRY I FEEL TOO MUCH ~By Patience Jedidah

in Monthly Beacon By Mccu Literature on 01 Jun 2025

Is it weird that I cried when I broke a glass?

That I just stood there, staring at the floor, and I didn’t know why it hurt so much? I cry more than I mean to- in quiet places, behind closed doors, at things that others forget by morning. Is it wrong that I get sad when the sky turns grey too suddenly, or when someone forgets to say goodbye? That I carry the silence of a missed call like it weighs the same as someone’s last words?

Is it too much that I notice when someone ignores me? When I speak and no one responds- I feel it. I feel it too much. And when someone I love gives their warmth, their joy, their attention to someone else more than me, I try to understand. But I still cry my heart out because I don’t know how not to feel left behind. Yet I wonder, is it selfish that I feel that way?

Should I not feel my heart clench at an old song on the radio, or ache when a stranger’s laugh sounds just like someone I used to love? Why do I pause at a photo folded in a book, and feel the years spill out? Why do I hold the small aches so close, when the world is full of louder grief? I know there are bigger things- wars, injustice, the earth groaning beneath our feet.

So why do I feel like I’m drowning in a moment no one else notices? Why do I cry over dreams that died quietly in my chest, when others are losing everything in front of the whole world? Shouldn’t I be louder, stronger, braver? Shouldn’t I save my tears for what matters most?

Why do I feel so heavy over things so small? Do the shadows count if they come quietly? If I’m not falling apart all at once, just slowly fading in corners no one sees- Is it still real?

Are there degrees of sadness that determine who gets to grieve? Do I need a bigger reason to be this tired, to be depressed? But maybe the quiet things are just as heavy. Maybe the aches no one else sees are still worth feeling. Maybe He sees me- even when no one else does. Still, I wonder- is it okay to feel the small things when the world is breaking loudly? To ache for what slips quietly away, even when I’m told to be brave?

I don’t know. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe it is. But I do. I always have. And somehow- I believe He understands. Even this. Even me.

I’m sorry I feel too much.

By Patience Jedidah