January 2021
"Brielle," My counselor, Amanda Flores, begins, taking out her pen and notepad, as she sat behind her desk across from me, but she didn't even look up at me. Maybe because I was looking at her through my computer screen, and I just wanted to make it feel real for once . . . make it feel like I was actually there. Call me crazy, but I somewhat missed school. Mostly because it was my senior year, and I would most likely never walk the grounds of high school again, and never get to experience senior year like the other students and grades before me.
This was my first time in counseling sessions, I didn't even know why I was here if I'm being honest. My parents and teachers discussed this over a Google Meet meeting, I was there, and they came to the conclusion that I needed to be in counseling, at least once or twice a week at most.
So, I was here, just sitting there, slumped against the chair as I stared down at the ground, seemingly looking lost, as I had my camera on for once if I wanted to make this seem legit. "Yeah?" I simply replied, looking up at her, but seeing her gaze was averted downwards towards her notepad.
"Tell me, what's on your mind today?" She asks, finally looking up to meet my stare through the screen, giving me a serious expression.
I sucked in a harsh intake of breath, as I looked away from her intense gaze. What was on my mind today?
A lot. But do I really want to burden her with all of that?
I don't think she really cares, if anything, she's just doing her job. But it's been so long that I've had this bottled up inside of me, it'd be a good thing to let it all out—to anyone who's willing to hear, to anyone who cares. Even if it's just a little bit.
"Just . . . a lot of things." I replied, not even sure where to begin.
"Like, what kind of things?" She asked, really pushing me off edge with all these questions, her voice echoing and bouncing off the walls of my empty room. Usually, whenever someone asked how I was doing today, I would just reply with a "fine" or "good" and they'd be on their way, never sparing me another glance—or until, the next time we meet again, which wouldn't be anytime soon.
I look at her for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Um, just everything in general." I said, not even knowing what I was saying at this rate.
"And what is 'everything' to you?" She goes, and I practically shit myself because of all the questions she threw at me—one after another—endlessly. It was too much for me to handle.
I look up at her again, and shrug. "I don't know." This was my chance, this was my chance to tell her everything! . . . But does she really care? Why aren't I doing it?
Miss Flores sighs and places her pen and notepad down on the table before her, as she continues to look at me. "Listen, Brielle, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on. How about we start over? Brielle, tell me a little bit about yourself. Off the top of your head, how would you describe yourself?"
I gape at her for a moment, before I swallow hard and avert my gaze down to the ground, thinking hard. "Well, I'm Brielle Santos, and I would describe myself as shy, lonely, antisocial, introverted . . . words that add up to that."
She nods softly, as if she understood, and proceeds to write that down in her notepad. "Hmm, well it does say here in your transcript that you're shy, and you tend to keep to yourself. You're reserved, and socially awkward. Am I correct?"
I nod, and look away. "Sounds about right." I replied, a bit saddened by that fact.
Miss Flores nods again, and flips the page of her notepad. "Okay, um, Brielle . . . tell me, why do you feel lonely?"
I take a shaky breath and sigh, twiddling with my fingers. "Well, I was already lonely, but then this pandemic started and I just got lonelier . . . I isolate myself, and I obviously have no social interactions with other people."
She writes that down as well.
I continued. "You know, ever since this pandemic started, I realized I don't really have any real friends . . . well, except for maybe my dad, but I can't tell him everything, because you know, he's my dad and all . . ." I was finally doing it, I was telling her what was on my mind.
She sighs softly, and looks up at me again. "Yes, I know how you feel . . . it is sad that you seniors didn't get to have a proper prom, ceremony, and everything else that comes with it this year . . . but you know what? You did have a historical one, and when you remember it, you'll remember how it was."
I give her a deadpan look, shaking my head. "And why the fuck would I want to remember that? Last year was the absolute worst, and shit year of my life."
She sighs and nods, looking down at the desk before her. "Yes, I understand it was a hard year for all, heck, it even was for me . . . but we're living in historical times right now, Bree."
I shrug, and look away. "I don't care, I never asked."
"Don't have that attitude, Bree, please." She sighs again, like she didn't know how to deal with me. It's okay, she's not the only one. "Brielle, please, just . . . help me help you."
Logan Paul, much?
I look away. "I don't need help, and why should I? You're only doing this for the money . . . . I want someone who genuinely wants to listen to me, not someone who gets paid to do it!"
I really should just tell her everything that's bothering me, regardless of whether or not she was only doing it for the money. At this point, I just wanted to talk to someone, anyone who wanted to hear me out. Even if it was under different circumstances.
"You clearly do if you're here, Brielle, and I'm not doing this for the money, it's my job to help people out who need it—"
"Whatever, it's bullshit," I interrupt her, and for a moment, I stay still, before I lean forward until I'm staring directly at her through my camera on my Chromebook, giving her my most serious look I could ever pull off. "Forget about it, but listen to me, if you really want to know, you better buckle up because you're in for one hell of a ride . . . My head is a very dark place, Miss Flores, are you sure you can put up with that?"
She just looks at me through her own camera, slightly scared at my facial expression and tone of my voice, with her eyes full of concern, but she nods softly, nevertheless. "Okay . . . go off, Brielle."
_
So I figured I'd just write the prologue for what was supposed to be my book right here, maybe then I'll decide to republish it again or something.
And that's it for now.
byas ✌️
- bree♡
