Anger

One year ago I woke up early to stop by the Counseling Center before class. I walked to the second floor of the Student Health Center. The building is industrial, white, modern. The brightness made me feel better, if “feeling better” meant anything.

I walked up to the counter and asked to make an appointment. They sent me to a computer to go through a mandatory screening that lasted maybe twenty minutes, and then I got to schedule an appointment. The soonest time for the counselor I wanted to meet with was a couple weeks, but I took it anyways. It was a start.

It was a start.

But the day was still only starting.

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