"Why are you like this?"

That is a question I've heard from a lot of adults in my life. Some of them related to me, some not. If they don't ask it outright, I see the question in their eyes. And I'm not being paranoid. Trust me.
"..like this?" in my case means loud, impulsive, messed up, combative, undisciplined, annoying. Other stuff, too.
The reason the question gets asked so often, with such impatience, is because there's no easy explaining when it comes to me.
I come from a nice family. Two parents, not one. We're not too rich, not too poor. We're well educated. Or I should say, they're well educated. They pay lots of attention to me. Read me books when I was little. They made me drink my milk. It's really not their fault.
I have two nice sister and brother. They both are excellent in their studies. Growing up, I always teased them and beat them up to normal amount.
And the big question again, why am I like this?
I don't know. Some people have a lot of space between thinking and saying or thinking and doing. I don't have any. Some people look at themselves from the outside and try really hard to make what they see look good. I stay on the inside. I rather feel good than seem it.
Sometimes I love that about myself. Sometimes I hate it.
Why am I like this?
I don't know. I have couples of theories, though.