I finally plucked up the courage and went to a hairdresser, there was only one other customer there, the hairdresser stopped what she was doing and asked what I wanted when I entered. I asked the woman to sort out the back and she seemed to know what I meant, it was short, quick work so when she asked if I wanted her to cut the sides too, I took her up on it, though now I really fucking regret it, my hair was firmly over my ears and now I’ve just kicked myself back months (now it sits above the ears and it feels thin). I owed her her £3.50 for the cut, I have her a £10, she asked if I had anything smaller and accepted £2. At least that was cool.
I was upset when leaving, I knocked a coat stand, loudly. Feeling the back of my head now, I think it’s too short too. Far too short, I feel like crying and hurting myself, this is months and months of hair growth gone, I’m going to torture myself over this decision for a while. Clearly I’m inept at asking for my hair to be cut the way I want it to, so from now on I’ll just fucking leave it and let it grow out however horribly it is naturally inclined to.
More than this though, I’m upset about the lack of help I’m receiving with my mental health, it appears I’m all alone now, I feel like I’ll slit my wrists soon but the grand finale won’t come until after I’m back to full capabilities when I get my laptop back. I don’t feel I’ll attend the counselling session when my number comes up.
Dad bought me a takeaway, I told him I didn’t want it and started mildly hurting myself, he kept pushing and I accepted the chicken donner but I said no to the naan bread.
Got 40 minutes of computer time left but I think I’m going to just go home and be sad.
Annoying 18 year old Arab girls or something (Kurds, Eastern Euro even), sitting next to me and trying to get a council house. Got iphones and dressed like paki slags.