Monday 14th January.

Huh, just realised, Valentine's is in a month . . . I have never, ever had a date on Valentine's. Oh well, forever alone.

Also, it got to about 5:30pm before I realised that today is Karina's birthday. As soon as I remembered I sent her a text. And for once, I actually got a reply. That's always nice.

I found out why we had a sudden influx of flies, despite our anti-bug-spray-automatic-wall-thingy - earlier this week, my flatmate was cleaning out the freezer of things she's not going to eat. I told her to leave the meat until rubbish day, and she didn't. Long story short, maggots. And then she got creeped out and I had to carry the maggoty rubbish bag down the driveway to the rubbish area. (Our driveway is 250m long, btw.) I wasn't impressed.

Further update re:flatmate, Margaret said today that she will be moving on Thursday, not Wednesday like she said. Me and Sam are understandably frustrated, and we think Margaret's pretty useless because she just doesn't seem to be able to sort her shit out. On the bright side, Leisa is back on Monday 21st, so I won't have to deal with Margaret any longer.

Debbie, the psychologist whom Judy has been trying to get me to engage with, actually rang me today. I was like, wtf? Because my appointment is on Friday. Turns out Judy has broken her wrist and my appointment is now not until February 1st - and the first thing I'm going to ask her is how she broke her wrist. Because I want to know.

I decided that 30g (30,000mg) of any medication is probably enough to kill a person, so I'm keeping mine until I have that amount. If I watch my behaviour, I shouldn't get busted prior to then, especially because my flatmate's moving so there will be nobody with any inkling as to whether I'm taking it or not. I'm not directly suicidal right now, but I'm spending a lot of time thinking about it and planning it. And also having the urge to SH a lot. But after this Thursday, my probation appointments become fortnightly, meaning probation will be less on my case, and hopefully Leisa won't notice anything. And if I don't die, then I still have an incredibly loving cat. If I die, I'm sure someone will adopt him, because he's lovely.

My thinking seems simultaneously completely normal and totally fucked up. I can concentrate (which is so nice, it's been about a month in between being able to focus properly), I'm doing normal stuff like eating, sleeping, dishes, washing, showering - although the sleep is somewhat hindered by the weather, I feel like I'm getting enough. So that all seems normal. But at the same time I'm obsessing about suicide and how to kill myself the easiest way possible (easiest as in requiring the least amount of balls and awareness of suffocation, hanging is ruled out for now.), I think about what it would feel like to kill somebody else, and most of all, I think about cutting nearly constantly.

I do not know if I am unwell or not.