People don't get it. We all have different struggles. We all have urges and curiosities and flaws that we have to fight against.

I mentioned once to someone that I've always been curious about what drugs are like, even when I was a little girl and the only drug I knew of was cigarettes. They immediately gave me a disgusted look and went on to discuss how disgusting drugs are and how they would never do them.

Fine. You're not tempted by drugs. You don't have to make it sound like I'm sinning just because I wonder. I don't actually do the drugs. I've never seen any drugs besides cigarettes and prescription drugs. I just sometimes wonder what it's like to be high. I sometimes wonder what makes people keep going back to the drugs that are obviously ruining their bodies and lives.

Another thing. We are all different. We all feel loved by different things. I feel loved when someone gets me something that I asked for, but that I'd forgotten I'd asked for. Or when they get me something that I mentioned I wanted in passing a year ago. Last year for my birthday, my mom got me everything I asked for. And then she remembered that she had some of my favorite fudge hiding in her closet. I didn't ask for fudge. In fact, the last time I had even thought about the fudge was maybe 4 months before. It was my favorite birthday present.

My dad gets me money for my birthday. $25 dollars, every year, without fail. I don't like it. I don't want it. I want him to get me something that I've asked for, maybe spend some time with me by taking me out to dinner. To me, getting money for my birthday implies that the giver just didn't want to take the time to think about me. Sure, this is selfish, but it's how I feel.

My brother told me that he didn't understand how people could care about material things. He was calling me vain and selfish. He was implying that I only care about the possessions I have. But it's not the possessions I love; it's the meaning that they hold. I will forever remember the fudge that mom got me for my birthday. The fudge is long gone, but the memory of the love I felt when I realized that she listened to me is forever. I don't feel that love when my dad gives me $25 for my birthday because I complained that my step-brother got more presents than I did 10 years ago. (For the record, he did. Another thing, my little sister gets dogs and guitars for her birthday. Those don't cost $25 dollars.) It's not fair. I don't like it because I don't feel loved.

Is that so bad? Am I a selfish person because I want to feel loved and then complain when I don't? Nobody likes complainers, but nobody wants to feel unloved either.

I don't know. Maybe I am selfish. But it still hurts.