I am nothing if not extreme. I want everyone to either leave me alone or give me their undivided attention. I want to either be single for life or have a ginormous family full of barbeques and reunions and matching polo shirts. I want to live in the middle of a desolate desert, but at the same time I want to live in the middle of populated Paris. Bare, adorned. Absent, existing. Depart, linger. My whole life is just one big "let's flip a coin."
If I only I was a little bit richer, I could blame my wishy washy-ness on privilege. If only I was a little bit more religious, I could blame my ignorance on, well, religion. But I am neither, so therefore I am selfish. I've decided. I've decided that I am in the perfect position to help/assist/educate/listen, but instead I harm/hinder/ignore/disregard. I've also apparently decided that I am undecided. My entire brain is saturated in contradictions that it's no wonder I seek some sort of security through food (or the lack thereof). It is about control, I promise.
But I also can't promise anything. I cannot promise that I will love you tomorrow or even three hours from now. I cannot promise that I will ever write anything worth reading, let alone publishing. I cannot promise what I cannot even give to myself, which is simply respect.
So how do I begin to respect myself? I welcome your responses and suggestions and ideas. I won't ask this question on Facebook because, well, Facebook kind of stinks lately.
I am nothing if not melodramatic. I want to quit this gloooooom and start being the person that I know is underneath all of this gloom. I don't know this person, though. She is a stranger who likes to hide behind potted plants and walls of steel. She is so frustrating, right?!