All of Me

Chapter 1: Counseling

I was always one to actively search for the deeper meanings in life. The reasons behind why people, including myself, feel and act the way they do. I'm one of those girls who spends her time on the internet searching, "profound quotations" so I can just sit there and contemplate the meaning of life. I was never a very practical person. I have always been driven mainly by my emotions. I'm still trying to figure out whether that is a good thing or not. Lately, I've been thinking it's bad.

I was resting my head on the passenger car door with my forehead pressing against the window as I watched the cars speed by on the interstate. It was a beautiful, sunny day in Birmingham, Alabama. But I didn't care. My life was a mess at that moment.

A warm tear streamed down my face and I brushed it off as soon as it came, but not fast enough, because my mom noticed. She was taking me to see my counselor for the first time, but I could have sworn she was paying more attention to me than the road... but who could blame her? For the past year and a half she had been watching me-her baby who was now sixteen-be completely heartbroken repeatedly. And it was happening again. She didn't have to say anything. All she did was put her hand on mine and it was enough. I mean, what was she supposed to say? "It'll all be okay, Caroline"? No. She knows that I have heard that phrase far too many times before, and at this point, it is no comfort. She just smiled at me, but I could tell it was forced. I felt so bad. I knew how bad it was for me to have my heart broken, but every time it happens, I feel worse for my mom than I do for myself. It's one thing to be heartbroken, but I can imagine that it is a whole new level of pain watching your little girl be heartbroken.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I was just making myself more sad. I needed to distract myself with happier thoughts. But that was impossible. My mind had been constantly racing with the same thoughts for a while now, it seemed. The days of spending my time in idle thought, like aimlessly thinking about what color nail polish to use next, or a cute dress I saw in a store, or what I would be doing in the summer were far behind me, it seemed. All I had been thinking about lately was some pretty heavy stuff. I had always thought that I knew far too much about life to be only sixteen. That probably isn't true, but to me, it seemed so.

We finally made it to the place my counselor was. I had never been there before. It was a huge building, with an exterior made entirely of big windows. Mom parked the car and we both got out and went into the huge building. We went up an elevator to the second floor, walked down a hallway, opened one of the doors on the left, and we were there. Mom went to the window to sign me in while I found a seat.

The waiting room was very comfortable. The lighting was dim and the couches were soft and the temperature was warm. I sat down on one of the couches. I had been feeling so down about myself lately. My self-esteem had taken a real hit. I already felt like I was a crazy person since I now had to see a counselor. But why was this waiting room so different from all the other normal waiting rooms? Great. This is where all the crazy people go, so they want the waiting room to make the patients feel calm and relaxed. How nice. I know I am crazy, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with other people recognizing that, too. This is stupid. I do not want to be here. I had had enough with the unusualness of everything in my life lately. I wanted my life to be completely normal again. I was not myself. Goodness, I was getting myself worked up over the setup of a waiting room! This is ridiculous. Maybe it's good that I'm seeing a counselor today.

My dad came into the waiting room and he and my mom came and sat down with me. Apparently they had to talk to my counselor about me before I could. We all sat there pretty silently for a few minutes. Suddenly, the door leading to the counselors' offices opened. A middle-aged woman with pretty short, blonde hair and a pleasant face smiled and walked straight to me.

"Are you Carrie?" "Yes ma'am." "Or would you rather be called Caroline?" If I had a dollar for every time that I have had this exact conversation, I'd probably have enough money to buy a small planet.

"Either is fine. Most people call me Carrie because it's easier to say, but some people prefer to call me Caroline still, so really it's up to you." "Okay, Carrie! Well it is so nice to meet you." After shaking my hand, she went to shake my dad's hand.

"Oh and I am assuming you two are Carrie's parents!" "I am Charles and this is my wife, Lydia," Dad told her. She and Mom shook hands as well. "Well, my name is Heather, and it is such a pleasure to meet you all. Now Mom and Dad, did the two of you need to speak with me first or would you just like me to go ahead and take Carrie back?" "We would like to speak with you first if that's alright," Mom told her. "Alright then! And Carrie, I will be back to get you in just a few minutes!"

I just smiled and nodded. I hope I wasn't rude when introducing myself. It wouldn't surprise me if I was. When I lost my happiness some months ago, I think I lost a few social skills along with it. Oh well.

I sat there in silence for the next fifteen minutes. I watched other people, I even more closely observed the setup of the room. I sat and stared at nothing, just lost in my thoughts. It's not like I could pull out my phone to distract me... I was grounded. No more phone for who knows how long. I was in deep trouble.

My counselor finally opened the door leading to the back offices. She smiled at me as my parents came and sat back down in the waiting room. As I followed Heather back through the door to her office, she offered me a drink, but I kindly refused it. I was upset. I couldn't even think about drinking. All I knew was that I needed to be here.

An entire wall of her office was a window overlooking the parking lot and the beautiful weather. She sat down in her chair against the window and I sat down on the couch facing the window.

"So Carrie, I understand you've been having some serious problems for a long time with a certain boy." I gave a forced half-smile. "Yes ma'am that's right." "Oh goodness. Well would you like to tell me what exactly went down with this boy which brought you here today?" "I would," I said.

And it is then that I, for the first time, thoroughly rehashed the entire story, in honest detail, of what exactly happened between Jonathan Fowler and me.