This is me. Part two.

I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure.
I make mistakes, I am out of control, and
at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle
me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't
deserve me at my best.

-Marylin Monroe

Oh, dear. It seems we have all the same flaws, and that worries me a little. Is it bad that I have the same flaws as a celebrity who died of a drug overdose? But Ms. Monroe and I have our differences I suppose. I'm only a little selfish...I also consider myself to be at least slightly compassionate. I do care about others and their happiness. And for the most part, I do what I can to help that. Except where it conflicts with my own. Sorry, I am only human. But I am incredibly impatient, to the point where it drives others crazy sometimes. But I can't help that. And as for a little insecure...oh, I am so much more than a little. Which is why I do these fucked-up things in the first place. I can pretty much guarantee you that if I do something completely out of line, it's probably because it made me feel better about myself at the time.

And let's face it. We all make mistakes.

This entire blog has gotten far too personal for my liking. I left the Myspace one alone because there were too many names, too many situations, too much mess. I wanted something clean and uncomplicated. And no, I don't use names. But I might as well. My readers (and I do have them, apparently...more than I think) are not idiots. Readers, I'm sorry for underestimating your ability to put two and two together, in a literary sense.

Ms. Monroe forgot one big flaw, however; perhaps she didn't have it, perhaps she didn't want to admit it. But I am more passive-aggresive than you realize. That's what this blog has been reduced to, and it makes me sick. So, in true passive-aggressive form, I'm going to apologize here as well. I wish I had the courage to say what needs to be said, but I don't. When it really comes down to it, I'm a big coward.

That comment, B., that you thought reffered to you being desperate...ha. You couldn't be further from the truth. I'm sorry it sounded that way, but it intended to be a masochistic insult to myself. As in, no one would actually care enough about me to make an effort, unless there was something in it for them. Because me, myself...there's not much to offer there. For years, I've been told that I'm just a slightly pretty face and a halfway-decent body, and nothing else. No personality, no intelligence, nothing worth keeping around for longer than the time it takes to get off. So forgive me for having the same opinion of myself.

I'm trying to change it.

So that's it. I'm done. No more personal life, no more stories, no more situations. Speculation, commentary, and opinion only. It's kind of sad, because I finally realized why I always fall back into the habit of getting so personal. It's slightly exhibitionist, in a way. The thrill of revealing intimacies and not knowing who will see them. Or be interested. If I were sluttier, I'd have a webcam (but I'm not. Thank God).