Yesterday I got angry at the Hungarian flag in my flat. I was going to thrown it out, the friend who gave it to me suggested that I burn it on a Guy, but I ended up shoving it in Shitlord's mailbox as a passive-aggressive slight that will probably be misinterpreted as a sign of friendship.
I did this on my way to counselling and sorting my special considerations application. I got all the paperwork done and the stuff filed with student health sorted and paid for (which is a giant scam as they make you pay for the certificate separately from the appointment).
Counselling itself got very focused on how I am a danger to myself and not very focused at all on anything useful. It seems I am considered too suicidal for the conversation to have been about anything more than staying alive.
I didn't think I was that bad.
Apparently my self-harming through food, which I think of as a coping mechanism, is seen as more of a warning sign by my counsellor.
Maybe it is stuff that needs sorted, and I have no idea what it actually is that I need to talk about, but it feels like I have wasted too much of the six sessions I get focused on being alive - which just doesn't seem that important a focus to me.
Last night was Guy Fawkes. For yet another year running I spent it at home alone with no fireworks.
I haven't done Guy Fawkes fireworks in so many years. I think 2011ish might have been the last time - whenever it was I did it with Firmin's family.
Young me loved fireworks and would be bitter;y disappointed by how much I have matured into apathy toward them.
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