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        I wanted to say what I had seen, or I guess what I thought I had seen that morning but I couldn't bring myself to let that story spill out my lips, I knew Mr. Mason's room was always a safe space to really express, and spill how I truly feel but yet again I also felt like maybe saying something like that might be oversharing, or I guess I was absolutely made frantic by the idea that they'd mistake me for a mad man.

        I know the job of a counselor isn't to judge their patients and whatnot, but it's really hard to share how you feel when you feel like everything you may think in your head may get judged. All the thoughts someone has in there head is always their truest thoughts, in your head you can't lie to yourself, so for me...it's easier to just keep it in, and think constantly, just spacing out keeping to yourself, and just thinking. Okay who am I kidding, it's really unhealthy to do that, my thinking process that was reminiscent of a bloody battleground had now turned into a grassy meadow scene, beautiful vivacious poppies jutting from the fresh mounds of earth, and the smell of fresh air, with the wind, calmly blowing, and in the way the wind is blowing it slightly makes you think of music notes blowing through the wind while Clair de lune is playing softly on the world's most beautiful, and delicately handcrafted grand piano.

        I decided finally, I'm going to tell Mr. Mason. Continuing to make eye contact I sighed heavily, knowing I may or may not regret this decision. My lips slightly parted, because I was about to tell Mr, Mason, and all at once like a bullet from a gun the words shot out of my mouth. "Uhhh Mr. Mason..." mustering that small measly sentence with the tiniest bit of courage I could spare. The emotion in his eyes rippled, and transformed from concerned, to a glint of interest, and curiosity, and with a curt nod, and raised eyebrows it was obvious he was telling me to go on, too which I complied. Dear god I didn't know where to start, do I start with the dead dove bit from earlier this morning, or straight away to the "My teacher's eyes were purple, and it felt like a Stephen King movie adaptation." Making up my mind I started from when Mrs. Daniels opened up the door with the strength of a rampaging bull and continued telling the story all the way to the point where Mrs. Daniels told me to go to the councillors' suite.

        "And that's how my mornings been," I ended it with a small nervous grin and an overbearingly awkward chortle. He looked at me with bewilderment, along with astonishment, to my surprise he didn't seem overstrung.Mr. Mason picked up the corners of his lips and gathered them into a smile and he grinned at me, "Don't worry Florence sweetie, everything will be... normal soon, I've got some important business to attend to! so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave my office...", he said a little too enthusiastically but regardless I left anyways.

        I picked up my bag, pushed my chair in, and headed towards the door, almost forgetting to thank Mr. Mason like I always do at the end of our sessions, I can't believe it slipped through my mind. In one big graceful swoop I turn and face the seemingly happy spirited man, I froze in fear, the feeling of the heavy air and immense darkness even stronger than before but as fast as it came the faster it vanished. Staring into his eyes... the once piercing green ones replaced with the same fluorescent purple Mrs. Daniels had but...brighter. At that moment I was panic-stricken, "Th-thank you Mr. Mason," to which he replied "no problem at all florence."

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