I'm obsessive, I'm a perfectionist, I'm extreme in everything that I do. I refuse to accept limits. I have willpower, but it is overpowered by most every other aspect of me, most notably, but not limited to, my emotions and my desires. I'm coy, I'm manipulative. I'm self-destructive, I'm fragile. I'm disorganized. I'm terribly forgetful; I'd lose my head if it weren't attached to my shoulders. I'm possessive, I'm attention seeking, I'm stubborn. I cry when I get angry. I try, or at least pretend, to always be happy. I'm childish and immature. I'm a romantic. I believe in love, but I do not believe in true love; I only hope for true love. I do not believe in a God, unless I need one. I'm naive, and consciously so. I am quixotic. I love having intricate dreams. I love to sleep. I barely ever do. I enjoy school, education, and learning in general. I believe knowledge is power. I'm excited for, but uncertain of, the future. I'm comfortably at unease with past. I rarely ever catch the moment. I am at peace with the idea of death. I value my morals, but I am weak, and terribly flawed. I love children. I worry, sometimes, that I will not be enough. I do not know what, beyond parenthood, I am seeking. I am not always myself.