Character is, for the most part, simply habit become fixed.

If I were a better person....If I were a better person I would;

Finish the things I started. I would actually do the things I said I was going to. I would work harder. I would've cared about high school. I would've done my homework and gotten my ass out of bed on time. I would've continued with uni.

I would care more about what I look like. I would take the dogs for a walk every day. I would get my hair done, get my nails done, wear nicer clothes. I wouldn't be so fat. I would try to fix the things I don't like about my body instead of complaining about them.

I wouldn't spend all my time contemplating what I should be doing. I wouldn't put things off and procrastinate.

If I were a better person I would tell people how I'm feeling and let people in. I wouldn't bottle things up and let them explode. I would be more accepting of stupid people who annoy me. I would forgive people instead of holding things against them.

I would have thought about money at a younger age. I would've thought about what I wanted to do with my life and gone after it. I would care about my life more than I do. I would care about life more than I do.

If I were a better person, people might care more about me.

But I'm not a better person. On a scale of the devil to perfection, I'm closer to hell than heaven. And actually...I'm almost alright with that. I know I'll never be beautiful, or smart or beloved by all, or powerful, or important. It's a good thing to know what you're not. Because then you can find out what you are.

And what am I?

I'm lazy. I love books. I'm addicted to sleep. And chocolate. I don't like people touching me until I'm ready. I'm a bitch. I don't like most children. I adore animals. I find myself funny. Sarcasm is my defence against compliments, rudeness, jokes - most things really. I love and hate being the centre of attention. I dance badly. I sing worse. I remember lyrics to horrible songs. I'm predictable. I'm unpredictable. I'm proud. I'm stand-offish. I'm cruel. I'm kind - to the right people, depending on the situation. I'm freckly and I like that. I'm fat and I don't like that. But I don't hate it enough to do anything about it. I have no willpower. I have low bladder control and low self confidence. I'm selfish. I care. I don't share things with people. I shut down when I don't like what I'm hearing.

I am me. I could be so much better than I am. I could also be worse.

I don't know whether I will grow towards perfection or the devil.

All I know is, I am me. For now, this is it. Most people don't like it. Don't get it.

But I hope that there are a few that do. That care. That love me. Even with all my faults and crap.

There's just more of me to love

Imagine watching Oprah, and she's got an episode on girls and women and low self-esteem. 

You see a fat lady holding a crumpled tissue, crying, puffy red face, her three chins wobbling. Wearing a pastel, baggy top. She croaks out in a small, under-confident voice "there's just more of me to love", trying to smile as her chin and bottom lip tremble. The crowd oooh's and auw's and sighs like she's been diagnosed with a terminal illness. (Well, it will eventually kill her, as life eventually kills us all)

Now, flick to The Jerry Springer Show. Any of the titles suffice. "I slept with my father", "I don't know who my babydaddy is", "back off...he's mine", "Back off my lover", "Before we marry, I must confess" - it doesn't matter, the episodes are all the same.  

You see three people sitting apart on stage. Two skinny men on either side of a largely obese woman in the middle. Wearing a mini skirt, a saggy-yet-tight singlet top with no bra, sweat stains peaking out from underneath sausage arms. Bleach blonde ends and jet black roots. Faded barbed wire tattoo looking like it's been stretched and slightly uncoiled. 

She yells over the crowd "there's just more of me to love" as she strokes her own nipple, licking her ruby-red lips. The crowd goes wild with disgust, screaming out at her obscenities. 

This one, inconsequential sentence can have such different reactions. Such different thoughts that run through people's minds. If this little, silly sentence can illicit such different reactions, how do important sentences come through? If the right person says the wrong thing, if the wrong person says the right thing, will the message still come through, or will people be stuck on the delivery?