When I was a little girl she took me aside and told me that no one would ever love me. She said I would crush all of those that I knew. She said it was a flaw to be kind when it was to the point that you suffocated those who were subjected to the kindness. It was obvious that my affection should be more delicate. When someone picks up a leaf they must grasp it tightly enough that it does not fly away with the wind. But they also must hold it loosely enough that it is not crumbled in their clenched fist.

To this day she has proven to be correct over and over. I give too much of myself. I love too fiercely. And so when I open my hand there are just pieces.

I am sorry if I smothered you.