Cold At My Core | Johnnie Guilbert

Ch 0: First Impression

I woke up Wednesday determined not to be late. I had my first counseling appointment, and I was going to make a good first impression.

But Kari, you ask. They're just a counselor. Why the big deal?

Well, dear Reader, my health is a big deal, thankyouverymuch. And I wanted to make a good first impression, no matter the person. That's just how I was.

This was it! Today was the day. I get to sit down with a random stranger and talk about all my problems. That's what you do in therapy, right?

Don't ask why I'm going, or why I seem so ecstatic to go in the first place. It all comes down to first impressions, see?

I slipped out of bed, brushed my teeth, took a shower... The usu'.

I spent a little more time on my face today, something telling me to wing my eyeliner a little more, do something with my lips that wasn't just chapstick. Something told me, maybe, I'd meet someone today.

Who, I wondered. The only person I'll probably see today is my counselor.

But nevertheless, I put in another inch of effort.

I flipped the light of my bathroom off as I stepped into the main living area, breakfast on my mind. I got started, hoisting the pan onto the stove and digging in the fridge for the carton of eggs. No more than a second into cooking, I heard the steps of my best friend. With a jingle of a collar and claws padding the hardwood, my dog Bruce Wayne came to greet me for the morning.

"Hello, my Batman." I picked up the little black guy, cuddling him close with a kiss to the head. "Hello my little superhero."

And he answered with a kiss to my nose. Noticing my eggs were nearly burning, I put him down and tended to my half-cooked breakfast. I was no Gordon Ramsey, but hey. I could make a mean dish of scrambled eggs.

The secret, if you care enough Dear Reader, is to constantly move the eggs while they're cooking. This creates a fluffy texture that just makes them melt in your mouth. Totes amazeballs.

The slight heat from the pan just made of think of how cold it was in here. I shivered a little, striding towards the coat hanger and slipping my arms through the sleeves of my Adias hoodie. This place was a little chillier than usual, but dammit all if I'm going to pay for heating.

But for late morning, a lightweight hoodie was exactly what I needed. I tended to my eggs again, my phone jumping to my attention with a small vibration. Just band members tweeting about random things. None of which had to do with me, but I pretended like it was my business anyway.

My own lack of fame made me feel a little down.

I turned to my phone again. It was constantly paired to my home assistant--had been ever since I'd moved in. So with a tap, I set the soundtrack to my breakfast-eating.

Some days, you're the only thing I know
Only thing that's burning when the nights grow cold
Can't look away, can't look away

This jam though. Perfect pick-me-up.
My eggs had never tasted so good.

______

When TEETH was on its second playthrough, I set my empty plate in the sink, I danced with my dog. I did all the things I usually did. But when the silence came, when the song ended, in those few seconds I felt my world close in. A tunnel growing too dark, walls growing too close.

I was alone.

I was alone in this big world and I would die alone.

I tried to shake my head clear of those thoughts, bending down and petting Charlie. Shushing him and telling him I was okay. I was just a nutbag of emotion, that's all.

And I'd die that way.

A splash of water to the face didn't help. A drying of hands didn't help. Blasting 5SOS until my walls shook didn't help.

But tweeting? Tweeting helped.

@KarefullyKari: breakfast with BW lol

And I attached a picture I had quickly snapped. The dog had followed me to the bathroom, and I was surprised to get one like in the first five seconds. Maybe my 500 follower count was growing after being stagnant for so long. Maybe my fame was arriving after all.

A ring of my doorbell and a quick hit to the wood shook me out of my thoughts. A package?

Anxiety thumped along with my heart, as I stepped up to the door. My socks were a little tattered, and I could clearly feel the carpet beneath a toe as I stopped at the door, listening in.

No sounds.

No one coming to kill me.

Jesus, Kari, chill out! No wonder you need therapy.

Against my better judgement, I threw open the door, seeing no one. Seeing nothing but a large, flat, square package.

My vinyl. Fuck yes.

See I'm a musician. Aspiring one, but I pressed my demo onto vinyl just for kicks. Should that money have been saved for, say, sending and mixing recordings? Yes, but Etsy is kind and I like to fool myself into success.

No one will ever hear my songs. I'll die before then.

I gave my head a microscopic shake, taking the package and shutting the door. I tucked it in some safe space near the fridge, deciding to open later in celebration of the surviving the therapy appointment torture I would go through today. First impressions. Right.

I checked my smartwatch. 1:07pm. My appointment was in a half-hour, and the place was twenty-two minutes away. Shit.

There was traffic, and my GPS bumped up the ETA to thirty-three mintues. Double-shit.
I hit the steering wheel in frustration. FUcknuggets why can't we have flying cars yet?

______

"Fill out this form and Dr. Belsher will be right with you."

Fuck. Are you kidding me?

My heart was still hammering, my legs were still strained from the half-sprint I did just to get here slightly late.

I took a breath in and silently let it out in a string of an exhale, slumping in my seat and letting myself have a breather. All this stress, and I get to fill out paperwork instead of starting the damn appointment? FML.

I tried to pick myself up, my own brain reminding me why I was here. Get better. Get stable. Get famous.

Yeah, right. Only two of those things were possible.

Die alone.

I picked up the pen, the utensil attached to a string of small beads. I retraced the line until it disappeared into the clipboard, trying to distract myself. Trying to procrastinate from filling out this damn form.

I expected general medical information. I even had my card in between two fingers again, in case I had to write down my number. But it was just some numbered questionnaire about my feelings and mental health.

Shit.

I didn't see him at first. But after five minutes of staring at the question "In the past two weeks, have you felt like hurting yourself", I looked around the room and saw him there.

His hair was mostly black, the choppy tips dyed red. But for an October morning, it fit for the festivities. With Halloween and all. Sorry, should I have mentioned the date? Seems pretty obvious. For those who celebrate it, and all. Not that I'm, like, against JWs at all.

Some door opened and my name was called. Already? I... Hadn't even finished the paperwork.

I got up, taking one last look at the only boy in the room.

Those blue eyes met mine, and he offered me the smallest of smiles, eyes decending down to his phone.

Strange. Cute, but strange.

And that was the last thought I had before my appointment officially started.