My new therapists says I can't stay here anymore. It's not like I've wanted to, but recently things have just...gotten out of hand.
I had my appointment a few days ago, and I wanted to go. REally I did, but my mother refused to take me. I had a tear in the knee of my jeans, and she said she didn't like the way they looked, and thus, she wouldn't take me.
My mother held my own mental health and well being over a pair of pants, and decided this was ok. Me. Her suicidal child...and...the message here is pants are more important then what I feel for you. I don't even know. I don't. I think whatever I wear to talk to this person about my deepest darkest fears and problems, as long as I'm comfortable, it shouldn't matter what I'm wearing. But refusing me help because of a pair of pants is just absolutely fucking insane.

So I'm looking into government housing projects and safe houses. x.x