Choices Maloices

Holy cheesecake.
My brain is everywhere. Due dates, information sessions, study groups, food...
I've been thinking about uni, and my course, again. I think I want to be doing a bachelor of applied science with a major in biochemistry, or something like that. I think maybe I want to be a doctor, like an MBBS doctor, maybe as well as a PhD doctor. But I don't know.
All I know is that I feel both pressured and compelled to finish my nursing degree first, and even though I really do love the idea of doing a BAppSc, if I did this nursing degree & got a good GPA, I could, provided I then passed the GAMSAT exam, get into the MBBS course without the BAppSc.
That's a lot of abbreviations.
But I don't know yet whether I'm going to fall in love with nursing or whether I want to be a medical doctor or a scientist of some description - or something else entirely.
All I know is that any which way, I need to keep my brain, and body, relatively healthy.
My mind is trying to cling on to the word 'healthy' like a life raft, but my thoughts are too turbulent for my own good. I mean, I'll be honest. I see a shitload of fat when I look in the mirror, and a lot of flaws beside. I can see the outline of what I used to be. How I used to be. And occasionally, what I'm heading back towards. And most days there is an excessively large part of my brain that tells me that I want to get back there. To x-amount of kilos. But then ... what's so good about bones, anyhow?
If I really think about it, given the choice, I don't actually think I'd change a lot about myself, physically. I may dislike myself most days, but I never want to lose sight of who I actually am. I think that that would be the worst thing I could ever do to myself.
I don't know. I'm not pretty and I don't have the perfect figure. I'm not exceptionally intelligent nor talented at anything in particular. I don't want to get married, I don't want children. I want to go to an island, a WARM island, and bask in the sun and drink cocktails. I want to explore Paris by bicycle. I want to eat gelato by the trevi fountain in Rome. I want to (medically) treat the children of the world... I want to go to a music festival in England and participate in La Tomatina in Spain. I want to shot vodka in a den bar in St Petersburg. I want a fat cat and a blue typewriter. I want to learn French, Russian, Serbian and German. Maybe Italian.
Today, I want to live.
And today I choose life.

Bit by Crumbling Bit

Small changes make the biggest difference.
I wear my glasses; I lose the headaches.
I initiate a conversation; I make a friend.
I learn a new term; I understand an entire concept.
I skip a meal; I spend the entire next day having to wrestle harder than ever with myself.

In essence, today was both bogus and great.
My brother signed himself out of hospital (where's the ITO when you need one?!) and is back on the drugs. Mum is heartbroken for the second or third time this week. And I hate myself just that little bit extra for not particularly caring.
But I had to stop caring about him a long time ago, or I'd be just like mum: with a shattered heart loosely held together until he next decides to do something stupid.
Lol. I think I just identified my first personal obstacle to providing care as a nurse: I lack compassion for drug addicts. Particularly those with young children. *cough*.
I feel that it's because I've been on the other side of drug addiction for most of my life; for as long as I can remember, the brother has been on one drug or another, or a cocktail of a thousand. And I've seen it not only destroy his brain and affect his personality and behaviour, but I've seen it destroy our mother. Little by little, over the years.
But anyway.
Sleepsleepsleep.

Insufficiencies and Admissions

I feel positively sick to my stomach. There's no real reason; I just feel as though I've been slapped in the face with my own insufficiencies and ineptitude. But there isn't really a cause of that feeling. It's not as though I have someone external constantly on at me, telling me I'm worthless and will never amount to anything. It's not as though there is someone else pointing out my every flaw. It's not actually as though anyone even really cares.

There's just me.

Me, and my thought process that I will never be enough, that is so far entrenched in my mind, it's irremovable. It's part of the normal regional flora now.

I just have no idea what I'm going to do with myself. And today's re-realisation, so to speak, that I'm never going to 'be good enough' for anything I'm even mildly interested in, has just got me in a world of confusion. It all boils down to that same 4. The 4 that won't particularly matter in the end; the 4 that has utterly broken me.

How can I possibly be a biochemist or a doctor or a neurosurgeon or a .. I don't know, even just a nurse, if I can't do better than a 4 in basic biology?

I can't believe how plagued I am by one result, even months later. It's absurd. The worst part is knowing how absurd I'm being and not being able to stop .. being absurd.

But in other news, one of my brothers has just been admitted to the psych ward in a hospital in Bunbury, over near Perth. Father of 2; drug-induced psychosis.

My god this family is brilliant...

Mr. A.

I think there is something irrevocably .. wrong, with my brain.

I must be wired incorrectly or something. Even when I try to be normal, I am, by nature, so far off the mark I may as well move to Alaska.

Most people I know value their cuddles and their kisses, feel empty without another person, love their sex and kind of, in the background, want to get married and the whole shebang.

I don't know whether it's just me, or just me today, or just ... I don't know. But eh. There is a guy at uni who saw me for like 5 minutes during a tutorial, got my number because he's in my group for a presentation on heart failure we're presenting later this semester, and has rarely ceased texting me since. And I mean rarely. It's irritating me quite a lot.

Anyway. Point. I don't have one, but eh. He keeps talking about cuddling and fucked if I know what else he's on about. I had to tell him tonight that I have no perceivable interest in him 'helping me' with cuddling or learning to share my bed. He actually thought something is wrong with me.

Maybe that says a lot about me. Maybe it doesn't.

Maybe there's something wrong with him.

Maybe this is all just my frustration at a lousy day, or maybe it's the overwhelming inability to comprehend what is happening when I am 20 days away from my 19th birthday, having never thought I would survive 18. Genuinely.

I don't like the idea of marriage. I don't not believe in it, but I don't believe in it, either. I can't stand the idea of carrying a person around inside my person for 9 months like a giant, growing, beating, fingernailed tumor. Yeah, I'm not fond of babies, and yeah it does make me feel like a fail of a human being. So let it be. I don't like the idea of being permanently responsible for a person, or persons. I don't like having someone text me all day long with 'soooo.. what's doing now?', 'send us a pic.Send us a pic.Send Us A Pic.' ... s. Innuendos, unless amusing, are also not my thing. Oh, and may I add, the very first night he said goodnight with 'love you Fleur =P'. I was very close to trying to send his phone a virus.

I need space. I need a lobotomy.

Or just to get a grip.