What I know So Far

About a week ago, I sent Stefan an e-mail in which I tried to define myself. I only said so much, but now I have completed it. Here it is:

I'm a creative, complex, poetic, clumsy, 18 year old who has yet to register to vote. I am lazy and self-absorbed, but like to be that way while I still can. I have a huge urge to grow up too fast and I can't sit still when I'm excited. I'm impatient, naive, and full of shit. I survived, but I'm still angry.
I don't want to live my life working to make money, but I'm terrified of being poor.
I've never done drugs, but I think about them sometimes when my hands are fidgety.
I have no sense of humor, but I can be funny on rare occasions. I take life far too seriously, and can't laugh out loud at movies.
I have a brand-new Wheat allergy, but I'm grieving my loss of pizza, cake, and bread in private. Sometimes I have the impulse to go out and eat a whole pizza before I get home from work, but I don't do it.
I'm not sure what it is that I want to do with my life--but I do want to be a mother, a wife and friend. Though I sometimes feel like having kids would not be such a great idea, I still feel like it is part of my purpose. I love the idea of being married, but I don't know if I'd be good at it. Of course, whomever I marry will have to love me despite my flaws, and I will do the same.
I'm dating the greatest guy I've ever known besides my Daddy, and I can't believe how wonderful he is. I hope that I don't fuck it up.
I feel sane, but I think of death somewhat casually.
I work at Target for $8.35 an hour, but I don't have enough hours to make very much money. A second job sounds good (for the money factor) but I don't want to give up my free time. I like my job sometimes, but I hate the people I have to deal with.
I like to write, knit, embroider, craft, paint, sew, and be all-around nifty. However, I seldom do any of these things, and I honestly have no excuse.
I have no favorite color, song, or saying. I am indecisive and rarely order anything new off a menu of a restaurant I've been to 100 times before. (Though that'll have to change due to my allergy.) I like quotes, but don't live by them. Some of my favorite things to watch are "Miami Ink", "Mildred Pierce", "The Patsy", "Amelie" and that old James Cagney movie "Yankee Doodle Dandy". Horror flicks, violence, or flat out meanness completely turns me off. I get nightmares easily.
Ladybugs, figures in clouds, vibrant color, roller coasters, high heels, flowers, feeling smart, and kissing Stefan make me happy. I also like tomato Florentine pizza, Chinese food, jeans that fit, new dresses, sleeping next to Stefan, having my hair stroked, and wearing bright red lipstick. I wish I could bungee jump, have pink hair, and not have this stupid allergy.
The next thirty years scare, excite, and overwhelm me. I wish I could take it one day at a time, but that is really hard for me-- I'm impatient, remember? I hope I don't drown. Right now I feel like crying. Why? Couldn't say. But at least I know a lot more about myself than I realized.
Sometimes I wonder if I actually am good at anything. I don’t know that I have any particular skills that just WOW people. I am sort of shy, don’t like to speak to strangers, and distrust people. In fact, I hate the masses. I honestly do. It’s individuals I care for. Therefore, I don’t do well in settings where I feel like someone might bump into me, or steal my purse, or look deep into my eyes and freak out my soul. Eww. I don’t even like to think about it. Because of this, I have a hard time looking into peoples’ eyes when they talk to me. Stefan is about the only person I can lock eyes with. In fact, I like kissing him with my eyes open. Anyway, I can’t type, recite, memorize, or remember names. I know faces, but I can’t remember my own name half the time. What skills do I have?
Well, I can write. I am good at that. I am excellent at procrastinating, but that isn’t a skill. I can be organized when I want to be, and know how to make things organized. I can use a fax and a copier. My phone skills are mediocre, but they’re better than some. Thus far I sound like I am write the resume for a crappy office intern. Perhaps it can be considered a skill that I am very trustworthy. When something is a secret, it stays that way within me. I am very good at keeping secrets. When I am determined, I accomplish things gloriously. Like most Sagittarians, I’m not much of a gossiper. I take my job seriously, no matter what I am doing (not much a skill, but a plus nonetheless) whether it be cleaning the toilet, or filling narcotics prescriptions. I am not really sure what else I am good at…thinking logically, maybe? I am also quite skilled at seeing the big picture, or putting myself in someone else’s shoes.
I’m still not over my abuse. The anger is the worst—I am still very angry. Most of my anger stems from him never going to trial. Some stems from the fact that this is an epidemic problem, but also I am angry that I know in my heart he’s still out there touching children. I believe that with all my heart. I have a lot of pain left over from losing her as my best friend. Sure, she wasn’t the greatest person to be friends with, but I wish we could have ended it on a better note. I feel a lot of guilt for leaving her in the situation, but I know that there was nothing I could do. I had to get out for myself, even if that meant burning the bridge between us. Losing her has caused me to end relationships with girls that I could have been friends with. I would knit-pick until I just created the other girl to be, in my mind, not worth the effort. Mostly, the girls who wanted to befriend me needed me more than I needed them. My standards for a best gal pal may be pretty high, but I feel that it is the only way to ensure I don’t get hurt again. Perhaps the pain of losing my friend would not have been so bad if her dad had gone to jail. At least then, we could’ve really said goodbye. All I know, is that when I rode my bike home that morning, I knew that I had to commit it to myself that I would never step foot in that house again. And I never did.
I want very much to start anew. I want to switch rooms with Bryan, fine tune my wardrobe, and dye my hair pink. A new chapter is opening up for me very soon--I can feel it in my bones--but I want this next chapter to be different. I wish to learn a lot about myself and take great strides in developing the woman I wish to become. Financially, I hope to do better; not so much make more money, but really handling it better. I want to figure myself out on a deeper level. What do I believe in? What am I passionate about? Who do I need in my life to make me feel happy? What makes me happy? What are my goals? Dreams? Desires? How much of myself can I give? What do I wish to receive? What are my expectations, and am I unreasonable in some? I have so many questions, but I am not yet ready to delve into the answers. Right now, I feel as though I am creating my cocoon, and the next chapter of my life is one of great change. I am looking forward to 19. Perhaps my 20th year will be the year I fly again.