Teacher |H.S.|

one

GEORGIE

"I'm going to kill myself."

It's only the second period and I'm already finding myself seated in the counselor's office. The lady with the huge glasses is looking at me like she isn't hearing anything new, well.. to be fair I've been a regular customer to her so it's not the first time she heard me saying that.

"You're not going to kill yourself, Georgie. We talked about this, you can't just say that you're going to kill yourself after every minor inconvenience in your life." Miss Miller says, giving me a look to let me know that she's done with my bullshit. Well, she's the only one who will listen to my bullshit and that's why I need her. Although it's her job and she gets paid for this, in my mind she actually cares about me.

Is it so weird that I'm struggling my way through life? I feel like I can't relate to anybody around me. My school is extremely positive in everything and yeah, that goes from their mood till their drug tests. Not only the students but also the school board. Therefore, Miss Miller doesn't really know how to help me with my issues. She's not used to people coming to her, the first time I visited her she was actually surprised that I found the way towards her office.

It's not like I'm having a really hard time. I'm just your average teenage girl who is depressed because school is sucking the life out of her and she's dealing with family issues, nothing you haven't heard about before. Or at least that's what I tell myself, to hide the fact that I actually have severe trauma and anxiety that I have to deal with on a daily basis.

"C'mon Susan, please tell me something I haven't heard before." I try to put some humor in our conversation but she doesn't seem to think I'm all too funny.

Instead of laughing, a sigh leaves her lips before she writes something down on her notepad. "Georgie, I think we're at the point here where I'll have to send you to someone who can help you more intensely than I do." Miss Miller says, placing her notepad and pen on the table in front of her and locking her hands together, resting them on her lap. This all while giving me a look that I find way too serious.

Oh shit.. here it comes. The 'I think you might need to go and see a therapist' talk. Susan isn't the first counselor I have gone through. I've moved from city to city ever since I was a little girl, with every new city comes a new school and so a new counselor. She isn't the first person I told all my problems and thoughts to, she's also not the first person who thinks I might have a serious problem.

The thing is that I'd rather not know what my actual problem is. I don't need some middle aged, bald man to tell me that I might be depressed, I think I can figure that out myself without having to pay someone.

"Anyways, thanks for the talk.  I'll be going back to class now." I say as I take my bag off the ground, planning on quickly making my way over towards the door and out of this place. That's what I always do when things get too serious, I run.

"Miss Hayes, I'm serious about this!" Susan tries to keep me in her office with her words but I already opened the door and am halfway out of there.

When I make my way back into the empty hallways, there grows a strong urge in me to just skip school for the rest of the day. After debating on it for like a good two seconds, I give in to my urges and head over to the exit, ready to call it a day.

Being a good student has never been a way for my teachers to describe me. My motivation for school is not really there, showing up everyday and actually staying in school all day long are the hardest challenges I face. Mixing that lack of motivation with a mother who doesn't care how I spend my days, there's no wonder why my attendance at school is so low.

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?"

A voice catches my attention, making me turn around to see who's calling out to me. My English teacher, Mister Harry Styles, is standing in the doorframe of his classroom. He's leaning against the wooden frame, his arms crossed over his chest as a smug look is covering his face.