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

Waffle Wednesday

Home Cooked Thursday, mystery meat again!

Pizza Friday

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.

-Gina B