This is me. I am slightly OCD. The inner me is a dorky school kid who still feels like they don’t fit in. A dorky kid still looking at everyone around her and trying to be more like them. I hate it when people are late. I hate it when people don’t reply to smses or emails in a timely manner. I try to be on time and I always reply to smses. I say what I think and I rarely think it through before I say it. I expect that if I’m blunt with someone, they’ll be blunt with me. I am loyal to my friends. I still don’t feel like an adult. I know some of my faults and I actively try to change them, but it’s difficult. I know I’m untidy. I have a short attention span. I have a hard time cleaning up after myself when I’m with someone. When I’m alone, I seem to be a neat freak. I have very little willpower and hate my love of food. I am also very lazy. I hate my teeth, my lips, and my eyes. I like my hair and my wrists. I also like my body shape when it’s in shape. I talk too much. I like to make people laugh and sometimes don’t know when to keep quiet. I yell. I throw things. I try not to cut myself. I hate the way my lips move when I talk. I hate the bags under my eyes. I can never dream of winning the lotto because the knowledge that I haven’t makes me very depressed. I worry I am a potential suicide victim when I get depressed. I try and support everyone I know in everything I do. The only time I don’t, it’s probably because I’m jealous or envious. I would hope that if I’m not being supportive, someone would tell me so I could try and turn my attitude around. I believe everyone should be supportive whether they think it’s a bad idea or not. I blink between every light post when I’m not the one driving. I wish I could be bothered to wash my hair more regularly. I wish I were more tidy. I wish I were more active. I wish I had the discipline I had back when I was younger. I am soft at heart. I am scared to be a mother. I lose patience very quickly lately and I worry I might shake my baby to death. I know it sounds funny, but I’m serious. I fear losing my loved ones. However I wish I had the strength to move away to a different country. Or at least a different suburb. I wish my friends lived closer to me. I wish I had more friends. I wish I was a better friend. I wish I had originality. I fear I’ve lost a lot of the creativity I had when I was in primary and high school. I think my obsession for orderliness has squashed my creativity. I’m proud that I wrote a book. I’m proud I created a website where people can share and find information on their pet rats. I miss my youth. I miss the friends I had and the opportunities I had. I miss staying at Misverstand. I miss the holidays in Hermanus. I miss the house parties. I miss clubbing on Friday and Saturday nights for hours on end. I miss the dancing and the music and the energy I had that would keep me going. I am proud I needed no drugs to keep up with those who took them. I’m still heartbroken I didn’t go work on a cruise ship. I get choked up every time I think of how close I came to going. I wish there was something I could do on my own. I’ve never lived alone, I’ve never travelled alone, I don’t even recall ever dining alone. I sometimes wonder how I’d cope if I found myself in a new city where I knew no one.
Possibly to be continued.