Heaven... Hell

OK, after blowing up the garage on bonfire night, winding up in hospital with concussion and waking up to find I'd lost two days but regained a friend (Johnny came to see me in hospital - evidently, he cared more for me as a friend than he did for the fact that he was hanging out with Little Miss Crazy), my parents finally decided there was something wrong with me. Wow, ten out of ten for observation. Your daughter sets fires for fun and drinks about 3l of lemonade a day to keep her spirits up (theory: can't be depressed when you need to pee). Either that or they just snapped at the idea of massive structural damage.

In an attempt to save their house from fire damage, they signed me up with a counsellor. I had my first session a few days ago. I'm going pretty much every day.

"Hello, Samantha."
"Hi."
"Now, I want you to feel relaxed and comfortable around here. This is your sanctuary (etc etc etc)"
"OK, well, it'll help me relax if you call me Trash."
"Trash? Is that what you think of yourself?"
"No. Have you ever read any Stephen King? It comes from a firestarting character in The Stand - Trashcan Man."
The counsellor frowned at this point. Evidently I was like getting a Big Mac at the Ritz. Not what you expected, and you can't send it back really.
"So... you like fires, do you?"
"Love them. They're so beautiful..."
Yep, defiantly not standard fayre.

After a while, I told her an edited version of my life history. The counsellor decided that my problems stemmed from being ostracized my whole life, so I decided to react in a way that would get me the most attention and say "if you're going to treat me like a social leper I'll act like a social leper!" Hence the firestarting. She also said I'd lost my faith in humanity. Personally, I'm amazed that I even had a faith in humanity to lose.