Who am I?

I guess this is something I've been struggling with my entire life. I don't know who I am.

I can be 'labeled' as a mother, a girlfriend, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a friend, a co-worker, a dispatcher and a cousin. But is that who I really am? All of these things only take up a very small part of me.

I can be called talkative, lazy, liar, smart, funny, confident, neurotic, forgetful, sexy, thoughtful and creative. However, these are things others see in me!

Who am I? Who do I believe I am? If I dig down far enough and really be truly honest with myself...

I am a woman who cherishes her family. I am someone who constantly misses my friends--even when they're only upstairs. I am deeply flawed and extremely emotional. I am deeply scarred but hardly wounded. I love poetry and the smell of brand new books. I love the sounds of words when read aloud. Each syllable, each word, each sentence and each paragraph.

I love to hear myself laugh--I don't do it near enough anymore.

I'm someone who talks more talk than she'll ever allow herself to walk. I constantly fight my inner demons and 90% of the time, they win. I'm impatient and ridiculous, but I expect you to wait for me when I'm running late. I'm always running late.

I'm half-way between irresponsible and completely independent. I get things done on my own damn time and I forget the world doesn't work that way. I'm passionate about the little things. The little people.

I don't cry when I'm sad. I have an irrational fear of crying when I'm sad. I cry when I'm angry because I don't know what else to do. I talk fast and loud when I'm excited. I have a lisp when I'm tired or drunk.

I'm the one who fills the void of silence. I can't stand silence. I sleep with the TV on, I clean with the music blaring. The only time I require silence is when I'm reading. When I'm reading I hear the sounds of the voices I've created for my characters. I hear the sounds of the bustling in the book. I let myself get completely enveloped by books, it's my escape.

I'm plain and simple--straight to the point. I've been referred to as glamorous and I've never quite understood that. I find the beauty in everyone and typically I'm jealous of it but only at first, because I tend to dwell on the negatives of everyone.

I'm happy nearly 100% of the time it's just hard to tell by the way I talk.

I cuss like a sailor and I am ashamed of it. I've been raised to believe it's not lady-like yet I refuse to quit.

I have to constantly remind myself to put forth an effort to learn about other people. It's not as though I'm not interested in what they have to say, I just get lost in my own conversation that I forget to ask people how they are and how they're doing.

I'm open-minded and sometimes judemental. I have a hard time walking in someone else's shoes without first being reminded. Empathy is certinaly not inherent in me.

My heart aches when I see an elderly man eating alone. I have felt a strange type of remorse for people on death row.

I constantly believe I'm not good enough. In anything I try to do, I first question myself. Am I good enough? Will I succeed? Will I fail? What will others think? How will I feel if I fail? But you'll never know it because I'm the master of putting on a brave face. I rarely try new things.

I pretend to know more about things than I actually do. When I can hardly tell you about myself!

I am Kassandra.