Damage Control

So, it's been kind of a shit day.
I couldn't be bothered to go into class today. Despite actually being up early enough, I really just couldn't be bothered. You know, back in highschool and 6thform I was always a good kid, never skipped a class and only took time off ill if I was practically dying (seriously, I had one day off in year 11 and I was literally coughing up blood), I worked really hard even if deadlines have never been my strong point. Now, I really just can't see the point. Honestly I'm sick of learning, and I'm sick of school, I'm sick of writing essays and I'm sick of going to class, and I'm having a really hard time seeing what the point of it all is.
So, I sat in my bed on the youtubes and listened to crappy music all day and got absolutely nothing done. I took some time to see about ordering a new chest binder online, and that's where thing's got real sucky. See, whether I like it or not, I'm pretty big chested. Okay, I'm ridiculously large chested, to the point it brings me up at least two t-shirt sizes. It is not possible to find chest binders in my size. I mean, seriously, not possible. And in the unlikely chance I do, after a couple of hours of searching, manage to stumble across a chest binder in my size it's going to cost me £50 and then another £50 to have it shipped over from the US, and I can't afford to drop £100 on a chest binder.
Before coming out tonight I decided to see if the two chest binders that I already own but don't wear because they hardly fit and I can't breath in them still fit and the short answer is no. The long answer is that I couldn't even get more that a single fastening done up, and if I had somehow managed to do them up I would probably have cracked a rib. So, basically, unless I come into some money or wake up and find that they've shrunk, I'm never going to be able to bind my chest properly. The thing is before I can start hormones I'll be expected to live as a male, which I'm already doing within certain context but I can't correct everybody who calls me ma'am, and I'm getting sick of having to explain to everybody I first meet that yes, I really am a man, even if I don't look like one, and I'm getting sick of people then trying to claim I'm not if I haven't started hormones yet, or if I don't bind, or that I'm just not, full stop. Mostly, I'm just sick of it, and I want it over.
I'm at the pub now, since I actually did bother to get out of bed. There is too much alcohol and too many packets of painkillers in my rooms and honestly it was looking a little too tempting to do something stupid. So, as an alternative to sitting in my room and drinking that nice pink vodka I got myself since I was working on valentine's day rather than going out and getting drunk (yes, my life sucks, but vodka makes everything better) and taking more than the recommended dose of aspirin I decided to remove that option. Common sense and all. I'm going to be honest here: While I currently have no intention of killing myself, and if I did I would certainly pick a more creative method than overdose, I rather like that lightheaded feeling after you take a few too many painkillers and as crazy as it sounds, at times like this, I almost like that really unpleasant burning in my gut (and the dizziness and the vomiting and the occasionally vomiting blood) that comes from paracetamol since I'm pretty damn allergic to it, and I know that this is a really bad idea and definitely NOT healthy and if somebody else were pulling the same stupid shit as I do I would be more than happy to tell them so. Here's the thing, though. Just because I know something's a bad idea that won't stop me doing it, and sometimes the best solution really is just removing the option. So I'm trying to put off going home since I don't want to give myself more opportunities to be a dumbass.
I had hoped that ice-cream might help, but it didn't. Honestly, I'm just having something of an episode, and I'll be fine once it cools off, but I've learned the best way to cope with bad days is with some creative damage control. I'll have snapped out of it by morning.
I don't know why I still do this whole rambling on the internet while I'm feeling shitty, because in theory it doesn't fix anything, but it helps a little, and I suppose that's the important part. As I said, damage control. That's basically just what this is.