look through the peephole thoroughly if i come knocking, even if you know that it's me at the door

there's a plethora of words in any vocabulary to describe anyone at any given moment, so i personally don't buy into the whole "the one word that describes me" thing because i highly doubt anyone is ever that immutable

but i would like to, in the spirit of trying to break habits and outgrowing beliefs, try it just this once, labelling myself with a single word to supposedly describe the me across all periods of my waking (and non-waking), and all versions of myself amongst my circles. because for some reason that i'm yet to really figure out as i write this, i'm sensing this imminent emotional turmoil that's somehow triggered me into calling myself this one adjective for the last few minutes:

extreme

(would it be considered cheating if i were to include its many other synonyms?)

i'm an extremely extreme person. i have intense highs-and-lows and lefts-and-rights. whichever way i am, though, my very silhouette is almost always plagued by large, invisible blobs of huge emotions that it'd be impossible to fit every bit of me into bags or doorways. even if i did manage to snuggle into containers or cross thresholds, i always seem to cause some sort of damage. and it sucks that i know that

if i could, i would shed off these intensities and extremities, because while people gladly let me into their little homes or willingly tuck me in their tiny pockets, i know the magnitude of the ruins and loose threads i'll end up leaving them with

i am extremely grateful that there are those who repeatedly let me in, despite knowing there's more bad to be had from me than good. but i really wish that weren't the case... and the feeling only gets worse whenever i find new people i might end up breaking

(this is not to say i'm of such importance to impact people in such an extreme way, but my very being can sometimes be too much to handle and i can't say enough how sorry i am)

meeting someone i want to be happy with means i'll have to deal with the fact that i'll also be sad with them. and that's normal, but again, we're talking about the extreme me here

and my [extreme] fear at the moment is that you'll turn me away if you even caught a glimpse of the monstrosity that is my self and all my emotions, both the pleasant and the ugly. and i'm really wishing, praying that that wouldn't happen... but please know that if it does, i would understand and i wouldn't blame you in the least bit

so right now, i'm torn between staying outside your house and forcing my way in—i'm on both extreme ends

but i'm not hopeless, and i'm sorry to be putting such an expectation on you, but i'm hoping you'll be just the right weight to bring me to the center. and even if you're not, i'd be intensely happy to carry your weight

i'm sorry i'll end up loving you extremely: i'll fix the cracks, i'll sew up the frayed hems, just let me stay, and maybe i'll get better this way

(but i mean if you ever decide you've had enough, that's okay too)