Entry #4 - 3/18
They've made me see the school counselor. They said I need a space space to "decompress". Now I have to eat lunch in there every day. I already see a psychiatrist, what else do they want from me? There isn't anything wrong with me. I'm a normal person. Sometimes I have dark thoughts. Sometimes I act on them. Anyways, the school counselor is called Ms. James. She calls me sugar baby. She's pretty young, maybe mid 30's. I don't hate her. I guess it's better than eating lunch alone in the cafeteria. Now I eat with Ms. James. At least I don't have to deal with the random throwing of food above my head. I see why it's getting thrown, it's toxic. Just listen to the schedule:
Mystery Meat Monday
Walking Taco Tuesday, made with said mystery meat
Home Cooked Thursday, mystery meat again!
Besides the mystery meat, it all sounds good doesn't it? Now, why don't I explain the meals...
Mystery Meat Monday: mystery meat slop, a brown apple, and a bag of wet carrots
Walking Talk Tuesdays: off-brand Tostitos with a deadly amount of the meat inside that's been in there so long the chips are soggy, some cheese fresh out of the spray can, and a week-old orange
Waffle Wednesday: all you can eat soggy waffles, nothing else, just the waffles
Home Cooked Thursday: mystery meatloaf, liquid mashed potatoes, and green bean water with one green bean
Pizza Friday: cheese and sauce, no bread
See?! I told Ms. James about this, she told me never to eat school lunch. She gave me a nacho lunchable. My favorite. I do really like Ms. James. I don't like the career path she choose, but that's okay. Counseling isn't real. It doesn't change anything. I've been forced into going since the incident, and it hasn't changed anything. I still would do it again. And again. And again.