Paradoxical Tendencies

Why is it that whenever I become content with myself and who I am, people around me decide that it’s time to let me know what I’m doing wrong?
I’m loud. Yes. I can be rude. It’s more obvious than I’d like. I guess I’m condescending and “have been for a while.” I’m obnoxious, I live my life in chaos, I’m deceiving and ungrateful. I’m flighty and oblivious, crude and too blunt. I don’t know what I want in life and am only going on a mission because “my parents want me to.” I crave attention and come off full of myself. I don’ t think of others, nor do I ever do unto others. I’m bitter and desperate. I say everything I’m not supposed to at the wrong time in the wrong place and always to the wrong person. I doodle in class, I bite my fingernails, and I can’t sleep. I mooch back scratches from friends. I tend to covet. I have moldy food in the fridge. I forget to wash my sheets. I struggle with my grades, my room is always a mess, I don’t do my laundry often enough, I have a hard time doing my dishes, and I yawn with my mouth open.

I know.

I know.

I know.

Sometimes I feel like screaming! It’s a little stressful to be perfect to everybody everyday. I know I have a lot to work on. I have issues. Get off me. I just want to live my life to the fullest, striving to be the best I can be, not the best everyone else thinks I can be. I’m so sick of hearing the word “potential” when people refer to me that I want to throw up all my “potential” on them. There I go again. Crude. Shocking. Scandalous.

“You should probably work on that.”

This may come as a surprise to some, but I really can be a good person, deep down. And it’s funny that I’m consistently hearing from other people what I should do with my life. However, a mighty dose of their own advice usually doesn’t go over very well. So I don’t say anything to them. I have enough stuff of my own to figure out, let alone everyone else’s. I just want to be left alone with my problems and figure them out. But then I’d be “fake.” Putting on a face and not being the real, messed up me. And wanting to only fix myself would be “selfish.”

So here I am. A mighty paradox.

Take me or leave me, but please stop trying to fix me.