From yellow journal

What on earth am I going to do? I’ve moved now, into MS. It isn’t bad. In fact its quite nice here but I hate to think what other people think of me moving back into ‘halls’. So fearful of what other people think. At least its warm, dry and clean and well-maintained. But I haven’t started working. In fact I’m still falling behind, not even keeping up with current work. I can feel this kind of pressure inside me whenever I think about it. And I’ve heard from several people now that medicine is a very bad idea for anyone with mental problems. I feel like I should just bow out gracefully now, get it over with. God, I’m still young. I could marry and have children and go down that route, totally different from university, my grades at school chose it for me. Everyone assumed I was going to university and only showed me how to do that. Surely my whole personality is wrong to be a doctor. I want to feel needed so I’ll end up over-burdening myself and burn out which will let everyone down and leave a huge mess. But I think I actually want to be a doctor now. Before it didn’t seem real, like it was so far away it wasn’t actually happening or at least not worth worrying about. Perhaps I should just leave this year. At least if I started again I’d be able to do it properly. I hate not doing things properly and I think that’s at least partly why I can’t get going now. It’s all such an irrepairable mess that I just don’t want anything to do with it anymore. So why don’t I become a mother and have a beautiful baby to care for? Because that isn’t doing it properly either – when I have children I want to have my own big house with enough money not to have to want for anything important. A nicely decorated house with a garden and a dog. I’m a lot more materialistic than I should be – in fact I am seriously materialistic because I don’t think a romantic love relationship with Mr Right actually needs to figure in that dream-house at all. Just someone reliable and calm. A good father, I don’t particularly want a fantastic lover or even a lover at all. Dump sex. I’m sick of it. If I felt better about how I look then I’d probably be into sex more but there you are. I’m not and it isn’t high on the list of priorities. Do I want to finish this year at university or find some other alternative? I suppose that depends on the alternatives. Drop out of this year and work, then repeat third year. Continue this year but plan to sit the resit. Change course entirely – that is practically the same as dropping out now. Or stay and get the fucking work done.

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