Not finishing anything.
I think that's why I like so many things;
Now this is fine when I'm say, doing a craft project or fun; I'm wasting money, but it doesn't affect anyone but myself.But this happens when I'm making meals, when I'm writing this blog, when I find myself not wanting to take care of myself physically anymore.
It's kind of p athletic honestly, and is part of the reason I have low self esteem. I know I won't live up to my potential, and I couldn't tell you why.
know I'm talented, beautiful, intelligent, and the like, and I'm not bragging; I have great self-awareness. It's just that I hate myself for never using myself to my full abilities. I put myself down. I hide my unconfidence (is that even a word?) with stunning ensembles, that "only I could pull off," and make myself feel even worse for trying to be something I'm not.
But everything is what I'm not because I don't know who I am, Jo.
I feel like Maggie in Runaway Bride.
Except I don't need a man to tell me I don't know who I am. I figured that out.
Problem is, I do like eggs more than one way. I don't like horses. I want so many different things- I could never choose one.
I love beauty, of that I am sure. But so many things are beautiful, Jo. I can't pick one beautiful thing over another. It's like, to be cliche, apples and oranges.
The problem is, I'm a plum and none knows what's in the pit.
I am so bad at food metaphors.
I guess what I'm saying is I don't want a guy to help me find myself. I want to know who I am, so that when the right guy comes along, I know he knows I know who I am.
Sorry for rambling.