I Wish I Weren't the Sort of Person

• Who starts - or agrees to engage in - conversations that she knows will end in tears (hers).
• Who lashes out at the people whom she most loves.
• Who says really hateful things that she knows are hateful and yet she decides they are "the truth" and then thinks that this somehow excuses how hateful they are. It doesn't. She knows that this isn't true, has learned it from brutal experience, and yet can't seem to remember it.
  
• Who expects that the people whom she loves the most will "understand" that she is hateful and teary and melodramatic, and thus not be angry at her and also that they will forgive her immediately, even when she says unforgivable things.
  
• Who thinks "I'm sorry" solves everything, which she has done since about the moment of first speech, even though when she was 7, her parents made her make a New Year's resolution a) not to whine and b) not to say "I'm sorry" and to think that just solves every problem. Apparently she still whines and she still has the "I'm sorry" problem. Count that as a New Year's Resolution that did not work out so well, in spite of her parents' best intentions and efforts.
  
• Who has now become the sort of person who tries to support the "I'm sorry" with both an "I love you" and also with an "but you also have a special place in the acknowledgments of my book." God, that's assholery. Even she can't justify this.
  
• Who wants so desperately and yet doesn't ever seem to quite know what she wants. And yet she expects others to just know intuitively. And to get what she wants, as if by magic. And when she doesn't, she throws a tantrum.
  
• Who gets so jacked up about work-related stuff that all of this bleeds (like a stuck pig) into every other area of her life.
• Who is so used to being secure that when she gets insecure in any way that she totally loses her shit and becomes insecure in all areas of her life.
• Who when she's in this fucked-up place can't seem to think about anybody but herself, even when she sees that she should.
  
• Who writes blog posts in a ridiculous bullet-form, that she thinks somehow explain her freaking out, when really all they do is publicize the fact that she's a neurotic freak, encouraging people who enjoy her blog to try to comfort her, because, at the end of the day, she is an attention whore.

And yet, I am all of the above.