Yesterday's appointment was good. Packed with information. I haven't written it down in my journal yet but I'm afraid I'll forget some details by tomorrow so I'll throw the main ideas here.
My dream about Flo and I being left in my room during a zombie apocalyspe and escaping and shit and basically all of my dreams involving zombies = death and the end of something and leaving.
I feel like I don't give my best effort to leave because I'd feel so guilty. I feel like being born in this dead-end place, I must not get out because that's how it works. Also my mother always chose the lame stuff in her life instead of dreaming a little bigger and I think that's how I should live my life too. This way I feel like she makes me stay despite her saying she wants me to do what I want. She actually doesn't.
My mother only had children to feel useful and she's always said so. Consequently I thought my only purpose was to make her feel useful, and now that she says we're old enough to not need her I feel useless and confused. I don't know what's my purpose.
I can't associate the name my parents gave me to myself. I don't hate it but I don't like it either. It's just not me. It doesn't even sound like a name to me, it's just a blurb, a sound people make when they want to get my attention. My first and middle names are both linked to my father, too.
I need to realise I'm a person, not a tool my mother doesn't need anymore. I'm someone, I have my own thoughts and needs and desires and I can actually lead a life of my own without seeking her approval. Just writing this down I feel so free and my stomach stops hurting.
I feel so not free. I'm struggling beneath all these responsibilities, all these things that make society so organised. You're expected to be able to give a fuckload of papers that will explain your current situation but actually none of these papers really tell who you are. It's all so complicated. You can't just be.
The other day I saw two old women at the bus stop. One was taking the bus and the other was just waiting for the first one to leave. They were waving to each other and I looked at the woman on the street. She had a beautiful profile. She must have been a beautiful young lady. She had grey hair, and the one on the bus had white hair. For a split second I realised how fast life goes and how we all slowly age until we die and it's all so slow but it happens so fast, and we all find it so fast because we actually don't take opportunities and make the most of each moment, and I was so scared, and then the thoughts went away as suddenly as they came. And then I realised it's going to be a year since my emetophobia started next month and I thought to myself, "A year closer to grey hair and what have you achieved". The answer is: nothing.