I don’t always wash my hand when I ***. I am stubborn to the point of the ridiculous. I can’t understand people who don’t need their own space but at the same time I get lonely very easily. I narrate my own life like some kind of second rate soap opera. Sometimes I ******* out of sheer boredom but never *** because no matter how good it feels I am not really that interested. I get bored of people I am sleeping with very quickly. Even though I don’t like being in them I sometimes create ruts. I have very unhealthy relation ships with men and only ever fancy emotionally distant ******* with huge laundry lists of emotional problems because I am not wholly comfortable with being loved. I post pictures of my self semi naked on the internet because I like being desired without intimacy. I am terrified I am mentally defective like my great aunt Doris. I hate my mother’s first name. I have always wanted to come from aristocratic stock and attend private school. I eat in bed. I use my size as an excuse so I don’t have to try to find love because then I would have to let someone in. I am scared of my manipulative side. I lie to well. I leave fresh flowers in their vase till they wilt and die because there is something morbidly beautiful about the sad crinkled mass it reminds me how closely linked we as humans are to our own mortality, I tell people I do it because they dry better that way. Sometimes I tell people things to appear more interesting than I am but when I tell the truth it is always more interesting, I still do it though. I am desperately afraid that if I do seek a psychological test I will be perfectly normal. I practise jokes in my head before I say them sometimes. I get scared when people expect me to share my own feelings or opinions and often make up ******* so I don’t have to divulge things. The shyer I am the louder I get. I once tried to jump off a bridge because of a boy. My parents ***** about each other to me, I just like the attention. My father has never directly told me he loves me. I hate sharing but because my mom instilled it in me as a child I find it ridiculously hard to say no. The more trivial something is about me the less likely I am to share it. I hate the feeling of puckering fingers after they have been in water and I always get angry doing the washing up. I got my first tattoo because I wanted to lay the artist. I eat with chopsticks because I don’t like getting food on my hands. I can be incredibly competitive and I hate myself for it. I like having beautiful friends. I google people I like (whether that be in a romantic or non romantic way). I am scared of never being a mother.