Insecurity

I suffer an acute form of the lack of sense of security. I don't know what contributes to it. 

I also have a peculiar habit of being a lot more honest in my blog than I am in daily life. In reality, in the real life, I'm all smiles and all dandy. I mean the life when I have to face strangers, colleagues, work, and friends or family members that are better off not knowing what I really am.


On my blog I can be a bitch, and most of the time very, very proud of it.

That is even more true when it comes to ranting in English, for some unknown reason.

I think, and I believe myself to be quite right when I say that my pessimism has everything to do with the fact that I lack the sense of security, mostly in love and relationship, but also partly in friendship.

Yet I also believe myself to be rather optimistic. Hence the title of my blogs.

I think that there are but a few people in life that actually know me for who and what I am. And they can be easily counted with one hand.

The first, is Olivia, she's what I call my adopted twin and even if she doesn't understand, she somehow knows what I am on about most of the time. We don't always agree with each other, but we do know and support each other always.

Second, Eliza. We don't talk as much as we used to when we were children. I met her in high school and that was a long, long time ago. But among the girls that are still getting together after all these years, she's the one and only that I ever reveal any secrets to.

Then there is my dad, whose temper I have inherited oh so well, to the point that sometimes even he gives in.

Then there is you. You are probably the only person I told all my secrets and all my wrongdoings, and you have seen me both at my worst and most vulnerable moments. You know with the difference of tone in my voice that I am upset, am happy or just trying to get your attention. You know whether I am really angry or just pretending for the sake of arguments, and you also are the only one to actually calm me down when I am lashing out.

And I lash out still, for the sake of it's kinda embarrassing to lose an argument. Which is just stupid, but part of who I am.

Yet you accept that too.

Sometimes I think I'm really lucky to have met you.