I left calmly. Hurt, sad, angry, but calmly. I said my peace, and I walked out the door. I needed the night alone. To think. To deal with my feelings. I have a lot of feelings. Some of them are so intense that I cannot handle them. I fly off the handle, I break down, I lose my cool, I lose my mind. It's not my fault. I have always been this way. This is part of my character and it is has been my cross to bear since I was old enough to formulate and retain memories. I could have snapped right then. I could of flung myself out of that bed, out of my nakedness, and raged into that living room flailing and hollering about all sorts of heartaches and injustices- I could have called you on your s**t. ALL of it. I didn't have to snap at all tonight- but I could have- right then and there.

I chose instead to do the right thing; to honor my instinct and flee; leave, get out - and to do so with bitter (but quick) resolve.

I was hurt. My pride, my confidence, my faith. I am hurting.

Is it your fault? yes. A lot of it is. But for every ounce of pain you've caused I must accept equal blame. I stayed too long in this when I knew better.

The fights, the drinks, the words. the mistrust and misplaced anger. All that anger-all these months.

We are not good for each other.

Why couldn't you just let me go? Let me leave in defeat, tail between my legs- rejected, pissed off, but relatively quiet? Why do you always have to chase me down with your interrogations, and accusations and relentless phone-calls and texts and "you know what elses''? Why do you always have to push me when I'm already down? These tears, these sobs, these cries- they're hurting me! Can't you see that? Don't you know that? Don't you care? No, You think I react like this on purpose- you call me dramatic

You don't know me at all.

I feel things a lot more intensely than 'normal' people. I bruise easier- I break easier. I am not resilient. I am hyper-sensitive. I am over-analytical. I am passive-aggressive. I am the wounded child playing make-believe; the lamb in wolf's clothes. These are all character defects- 'issues;' the all-too-obvious strings you can pull to make me lurch in whichever direction best suits the purpose- but this is not who I am.

Who I am is a twenty-three year old woman who loves theater and music and animals and the outdoors. I enjoy being the center of attention at social gatherings: having a drink and telling jokes, making people laugh. I flirt- with everyone. I relish sitting in the grass or on the beach and passing a joint and a guitar or djembe drum around with friends. I love to sing, and am quite good at it. I love clothing and costumes and natural colors. I have an unimpressive job in a local restaurant making sh**ty money and I've never enjoyed going to work so much in my life- regardless of the fact that I don't even earn enough in a week to pay my car insurance. I also substitute teach in the local school district and am taking the MTEL exams in pursuit of my teaching certificate: not because I am overly zealous about being a teacher- but because I feel I need to commit to something tangible and I get a bit of a buzz off of the idea of a life spent helping others learn and grow. I want desperately to travel and see the world. I feel I am neither capable nor entitled.

I believe I wasted my college experience and I feel a tremendous amount of guilt for that. Politics enrage me- although I follow them very closely. I care too much about things that are beyond my control. I hate it when someone wants to debate me- because I am always anticipating the person challenging me is an idiot, even if they are not. I like to give folks the benefit of the doubt when it comes to me liking them, and them F***ing up. I will overlook your flaws to seemingly no end, even when you have caused me strife. I operate under the tenet that basically everyone is full of s**t. with few exceptions. I can't shake the feeling that the sky is about to fall.

I live for virtually free at my parent's house and am the most disorganized and forgetful person I know. I have been careless with most of the support they have given me. These facts combined make me feel like both a burden and a loser. I am terrified of failure. Not in any great feat or attempt- but in general. I am afraid of ending up alone and helpless, I am afraid of letting my loved ones down, I am afraid of losing them. I am afraid of committing to something outside of myself.

I am preoccupied with coping with my fear a lot more than should be considered normal and will go to almost any end to soothe the turmoil in my heart and mind, even if it puts my physical health in jeopardy. Nearly every project I have ever started in my life remains unfinished. I have an alarmingly small attention span. I 'space-out' a lot more than most people. I can rarely find my car keys and have lost track of most of my long-term memory. I have always been a procrastinator. I put everything off until last minute because I can't sit still long or remain focused long enough to properly begin and complete a task. I keep lists, and lose them. Things go right in and out of my head, I operate mostly on whims. I have been learning through mistakes since 1985 but not growing from them the way I ought to have.

I can get very preachy towards people about how they should choose and live their lives and I'm beginning to realize that this is probably something I do to avoid looking at my own life choices with an objective eye. I have had five serious relationships since I was seventeen and while I poured all of my mental, emotional and financial resources into those relationships I have never been completely honest with any of them. Out of the five, there is only one who I felt (and still do) was (and is) my match, my equal. And I'm probably wrong about that, too. I have been pregnant twice- once when I was nineteen, and again when I was twenty-one. Both were terminated. I was not ready, still am not. I should not be in romantic relationships. They are an out for me. I am most likely f**ked in the head.

I have had at least 8 major depressive episodes since I was a freshman in high school. I have thought about killing myself many times, though I have never soberly attempted it. The comfort I sometimes find in the knowledge that I could end my own life at any given time frightens me to no end. I am a problem drinker: I drink, and problems ensue. And I drink to deal with my problems, most of which I brought on myself, and probably wouldn't have if I hadn't spent my entire adult life under the influence of one substance or another. For all of these things, I am deeply and mortifyingly ashamed. Only a few close friends and family members truly know how messed up I am. I have mastered the art of keeping people at bay by masking my anguish with humor and intelligence.

I am very good at playing the role of the zany, eccentric, and charismatic stranger in the crowd; the smart, relatively attractive girl who could easily be everyone's girlfriend and best buddy. This person is an authentic part of my personality, but instead of embracing and actually living it, I use it to manipulate other people's opinion of me.

I harbor resentments from my past. I've been hanging on to damages inflicted on me as a child and throughout the course of my life. I have been wronged and in turn, I have wronged others. I have not made peace with these violations and with my consequential resentment, I have not forgiven my betrayers nor have I forgiven myself. I am selfish. I am childish. I want to get out of my own mind and live a life of purpose. It is time to put my shoulder to the wheel. It starts now. Please, dear God, let it start now.