My Chameleon Costume

I’m off for four days to re-live my short-lived student life at a friend’s place up north. I’m so glad to be out of my claustrophobic home town and able to let my hair down and get totally smashed. I’ve got a bottle of vanilla vodka and a bottle of lime vodka…. not sure about the sound of the vanilla one but i’ll let you know if it is a hit. Currently I’m on a coach on my five-hour road trip, which in the UK is quite a way but I guess those of you from America will show me no sympathy!

It’ll be interesting when I meet my psychologist for the second-time next Monday after spending most of the week drunk. I wonder if she’ll judge. I don’t understand how therapists do that thing of listening yet not really reacting. I’ve always spent my time either alone or in the company of larger than life characters so having a blank canvas sat in front of me making conversation is bloody hard work.

I’ve also realised that I tend to be a social chameleon. Put me with a group of extroverts then i become an extrovert, leave me with a group of opinionated activists, and yep I become one of them too. So who the hell am when put in front of a therapist?! If she’s blank then she won’t get much from me, I might as well be invisible.

I’ll be a boozy party animal for this weekend. Next week I’ll be a domestic goddess most likely as I’m left in charge of feeding and cleaning up after both my sisters and the dog whilst my dad is away for his wedding anniversary. I am who people want me to be and I don’t know what my psychologist wants from me!!

*existential crisis of identity*  *boom*  *bang*  *head just exploded*

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