I am not certain how to characterize myself, but I don’t see myself as falling within the spectrum of normal human beings, whatever that may be. I know that I have traits that are unhealthy, that I stick my foot in my mouth regularly, and that I eat too many bagels. I know I have a lot to do with little time to do it in because of unfortunate circumstances, though I believe these needs to feel accomplished arise from expectations that might not be grounded in reality. I have a way of letting my emotions get a hold of me, and I have a way of not thinking before I say or write things to others. I know that I get the things done I need to, but I know I will procrastinate if given the chance because the energy to perform like a 20yr old student doesn’t lie within my bones any longer. I know that I have a tendency to think of myself often because I don’t have a family, but I know if I had children I would die for them, and not even think the slightest of giving them away. I know I don’t try hard enough in some areas, and I try too hard in others. Sometimes how I am can have people seething with anger, or that something I’ve done has hurt me more than it has helped me, but in this same vein, I’ve discovered startling moments when someone has said that they feel like they’re going to miss me when I go to leave. I feel like I am critical of others out of a gross sense of self-incompetence, and I know I have a hard time when I don’t get my way. But I also know that I go out of my way to do things for others that are trying to help themselves…and sometimes I even help those who don’t even try. I know I probably snore and I scrape the plate of my food after eating a little obsessively, and I know I eat too much chocolate because I’m addicted. I realize I take in my fair share of horror movies, and I compliment this with an infatuation for Sandra Bullock movies; but I also know that I like to read and write, and that one way another I will accomplish my goals. I realize I fall into deep spells of depression because of a state of financial terror I live in, and the sense of loneliness that accompanies this tune, and I know I have a strange way of relating to people because I’m upset about the state of my life, and it shows when I don’t want it to sometimes. I know I need braces, and that I’ll sleep as much as I can when I can, but that doesn’t mean I won’t smile knowing how goofy crooked teeth can be. I know I need to continue making progress toward doing better things with my life in spite of the lack of energy or motivation that overtakes me, but I know that things have a way of finding their way into my life when I’m not looking. The fact that I get apprehensive and anxious in many settings is testament to the fact that I am unreasonably shy, with debilitating effect, but I know that sometimes, out of the blue, I can say some fairly sarcastic and cynical things that can be a little off-putting. I know there are a certain few that I utterly despise that it’s nearly unhealthy, and yet I see the need to not think on these terms any longer, because I know hate can kill. I also know there a people not like them in this world, and they are who I wish would be in my life if I had my wish. I set standards high and fail to meet them, and I fall great distances; but I often shake the dust off my pants and keep trying also. I feel sometimes I don’t have a hope in the world, but I know I can change perception at anytime, thinking of those I’ve lost, those who never got a second chance. I know that love can only find you, one can’t find love. I know I’ve made powerful mistakes, and I seem to keep making mistakes; but I know that deep down, I am real, but just confused at times, unable to understand. I know of people who don’t like me, and people who like me, and I know I can get nervous when trying to relate to people because of a seeming endless lack of self-esteem. I realize that if I put all these things together, I get the complexity that is me as a human being, to be judged as the world will. They can take me or they can kill me, but I know that how I am treated is how I treat others, and so I have the will to try and be better than I was, with each day that I wake up, so that maybe, at some point in time, I can look at someone and smile, because they know me, and they don’t mind it all. After thinking upon as much as has come to my mind in the two minutes I wrote this, does thinking about who I was really even matter? This is me, post-apocalypse, and someday, sooner I hope than later, I hope that a deeper, truer sense of self and healing will emerge.