So you are probably wondering, Who is this crazy girl spilling her guts out for everyone to see?
Or you may not care at all.
I am going to tell you anyways, whether you like it or not…
My name is Alicia. I was born in Alaska and have lived in six states. I used to consider myself a gypsy of sorts, which is a creative way of saying I ran from myself. We all know that when you run from your problems, they follow, and the reason being is you are the problem. I am 26 years old and I feel like I’m fifty. I have a son named Cameron who is 7 months old and a five year old daughter named Aubrey who lives with her dad in Kansas. I have a wonderful and completely uncompatible fiancee named BJ (His real name is James). We have been together for three or four years, we met at a bar, had sex the second night, I moved in a month later, and then became an “item” a month after that. Our whole relationship has been backwards and very chaotic. All the same, I love him. He’s the only one crazy enough to stick around after all I have put him through and the enormous amount of baggage I lug around.
I am a writer, an artist, and a poet. This is funny to me because I am very ridgid and concrete. I think in definites and absolutes. Actually I am quite the contradiction, and a bit of a hypocrite. I would like to say that my most important value is honesty, but lets be truthful, we all lie. I try very hard not to, but we are all human. I confuse myself alot, the reason is that I believe that everything is in black and white, but what’s hard for me to grasp is that I don’t fit into a label or a compartment. I figure I should be one way or another, but I’m not, I can’t be. I have many different personalities, and they are all opposites. I think they frustrate eachother constantly, trying to tell me which is better, but I believe they all have their purpose for the right time and situation.
I used to be a fun and carefree little girl, I had dreams and hopes, I was silly and loving. I like to hope that there’s that little girl I used to know underneath all the layers of hurt and distrust, but it is very hard to be vulnerable. I like to have control, I like to plan out and make lists, everything in order, in it’s right and perfect place. I like to know everything, to be involved and aware. I have many isms and tendencys, all of which have a working purpose. Sometimes Bj just shakes his head at me wondering what the hell I am doing and why I can be so tedious with my ways. It all goes back to order and control. Even the way I eat Lucky Charms has rhyme and reason; I must take equal marshmallows to each cereal bite, only after I have eaten every boring cereal peice out possible. Everything must be equal. I can walk into a room and notice what has been touched because I have a specific way of organizing things. Some people would call this OCD, I call it harmless. If having OCD means my house is clean and my clothes are organized by type and color making it easier to find an outfit, then I think I will be ok.
I thought I was a fun person, but I find myself being more of a serious person these past couple years. I think life has taken away some of my spirit, but I hope someday I can find it again. I have a strange sense of humor, kind of gross, kind of dark. Bj gets me, which is nice. I love to talk though, I could talk all day if you wanted to listen. Sometimes I talk too much, and sometimes I like to put my foot in my mouth. I’m known for my akward moments and inappropriate comments. Sometimes it’s because I am nervous and I can’t stop, and sometimes I just have forgotton that not everyone thinks its funny. I find myself walking away from encounters with every day people going, “What the hell is your problem? Why can’t you just shut up?”. I have a problem with telling everyone everything, I know sometimes honesty is not the best policy, but I think I make a worse liar. Even if I am not lying I feel guilty. If I got interrogated by the FBI I would admit to anything, even if it wasn’t my fault. I do that because my mother would always question me and nag me even if I was telling the truth till the point where I would get nervous and wonder if I really was wrong.
Many people used to say I came off rude and bitchy. I don’t think that’s the case anymore, but then again, I’m not really around anyone lately. I think part of it is that my face never matched my thoughts. I just always looked angry. Actually, I was usually just deep in thought, confused or analyzing things. I have made it a point to smile and make small talk, even though I think it is a waste of time. Why talk about small things? Why not start the conversation out with big stuff? Get to the point, stop wasting time! But I know that is not how the social world works and is definitely not the way to make friends.
I have come to belive people like facades and near truths. The truth is ugly and hard, it’s scary and unknown. We like what’s comfortable, what’s safe. The truth is, I don’t even like the truth. I have to force myself to look at reality and not live in denial. My brain tries very hard to hide things from me and make things easier on me, it knows the truth is hard. But there is something freeing about honesty, and especially being honest with yourself. One thing I do know, is that you can’t begin to change until you are willing to look at what is really there.
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