Okay, so, I have a confession to make: I wasn't a very good son. I know it, I just have to admit it to other people. I didn't call my mom, she always called me. I don't know why. I think I lived alone with her so long that I just...got sick of it. I got sick of her.
That sounds horrible and it is. I wasn't a good son. I left home as soon as I could.
But I didn't want her to die. I just wanted to be somewhere else. Is that wrong? Is that bad? Isn't that what I was supposed to do? Aren't kids supposed to move away and grow up and become adults?
I don't feel like an adult. I never have. At first, I justified that by saying it was because I was in college and I was still going to classes and living in a dorm. But then I graduated college and I moved to a different city and have a job and I wear ties and cook my own dinners and I still don't feel like an adult. I don't feel grown up.
I feel like I'm pretending. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm just a kid trying to be grown up and failing miserably
I don't know what to think. I have a session with my therapist again today; perhaps he will.
See you later,
Lonny
No comments:
Post a Comment