I think I have cancer.

Now, before you freak out and start to comfort me realize that this is just me being my over-dramatic insane self.
I have a mole on my shoulder that has grown a tiny little polyp. It's not a big deal, but there's this whole thing about if a mole changes at all that it could be cancer and have it checked immediately.
So I'll get around to that. As long as it's covered by the clinic.
Sigh.

Now what this is really all about.
I don't have that filter that most people have. The one that tells them what is appropriate, and when it's appropriate, and who it's appropriate with.

I'm a pretty open person, and I try to be honest, it's this whole thing from being lied to so often. But I take it too far. No, I don't think I should cover up that I am a birth mom, or that I am bi. For the most part these aren't terribly uncomfortable topics. But talking so openly about those things tends to make me open about other things that are a lot more uncomfortable. And yet I open my mouth and unload to someone something they don't really want to hear. Completely sober I do this. Which means I don't have drunken crazy logorrhea to blame.

I've gotten better over the years, but every now and then I do something colossally stupid that makes me hate myself and my stomach hurt, and that dredges up all the other stupid things I've done. Then they start to snowball and I don't leave the house for days.

I have to stop obsessing. I know it's bad for me, I know it's not productive and I'll only mess up my stomach again and get a full blown ulcer this time. I also shouldn't care what others think of me, especially if I'm going to go around telling them highly personal things. I don't think I'll ever get over that one though.
Deep down I want to be liked.
I think we all do.