It’s all only because I’ve had a rough two weeks, or maybe three. I’m usually far better, but to be honest, this just happens sometimes… That is, I don’t think I’ve been talking to people as much as I mean to, or maybe they’re not talking to me; It’s all the same. I’m sure you’ve heard this all before.

No, you’re asking too many questions, really. There’s no need to get too personal, not because it makes me uncomfortable, but because I don’t need to waste your time. I know I’ll feel better in a week or two when we go down to Madison to compete in state finals— did you hear we qualified? Well, everyone on the team loves me, so it’ll help. I was only wondering if you had some boilerplate advice, to be proactive. It’s best to get in front of these things, else you get buried… or maybe you float away… I’ve had friends do both.

Well, if you’re not busy, I could stand to sit down for a little while. Quickly, before I do, I hope you consider that I might only be lying for attention. You know, one can’t resent the people that do. We all need to think we’re important once in a while. My girlfriend— we’ve been together for two months now— that’s what she does when filling the questionnaires that your office sends out. I think I talked to you a while ago when I scored poorly on one of those. Come to think of it, you never followed up on that. Did my parents squash that idea when you called them?

No, I think they made the right choice. It got better then, and it should get better again. That understanding, no matter how true, is enough for me. You’d better spend your time helping other people learn it. It’s not that I dislike it here; this office is a far cry from the plain-walled prison cells one expects when they visit a shrink. My main problem is that, last I checked, you weren’t a real psychologist, or even a real therapist. In fact, I would say that this calming atmosphere is the greater half of what you can offer. I sometimes wonder how much it helps. The mere sound of a waterfall can’t be called a legitimate replacement for human reassurance. Nothing is.

So then, what a strange thing you are, what a strange office I sit in. You’re right, of course; not all human problems are ferocious grapples with death. Still, do you for a second believe that a single student in our body doesn’t know that they will die, more than that, how exactly they will die? The Christians know the continuance of life, yes? Then they know that in eternity they will become shells and concubines to their lord, losing anything that made them human. The atheists know that in time, all will succumb to entropy, or at least time, and that their names will be forgotten, and their memory will become inhuman, traceable perhaps—

Sorry. There’s a deer across the street. It’s eating the neighbors’ shrub. But… it’s already not a beautiful plant, so I don’t think they’ll care too much. Why would you live here if you didn’t like the deer?

…traceable perhaps only by their faint chemical fingerprint… well… yes, maybe they know there are aliens; Maybe they think their scattered chemicals will one day lead to their rebirth or reincarnation; Maybe they claim to be stupid. Still, they know how they will die.

And then, so what? I don’t know what happens once something does or doesn’t know how it will die. Maybe I haven’t read enough. Maybe you have more life experience you can drop on me. Is that what you’re here for? That seems pointless. This conversation could never restore that high school ego that flows through my veins as I sit and talk to you, and no quick-wit could sap you of the pride you gained in its place.