The high school counselor started each consultation with a lengthy prayer. The students joked that she was praying for a semblance of competence. God failed her in that department, as in so many others. Students came with outlandish stories just to see her squirm. Sally Mae Jones confessed to oral sex and later told her peers that the counselor had fallen to her knees and started speaking in tongues. Sally Mae pulled her chair closer and said, “Hey, if you want to, I’m willing.” The counselor told the principal to expel Sally Mae but the principal decided school would be too boring without her and fired the counselor instead.
Joanna Bressler
I used to want to be a counselor. I think it would be awesome to be able to help people delve into who they are and what makes them tick. Plus, who doesn’t want to know everything about people and to learn what issues they are dealing with. I did realize (thankfully earlier in life than later) that emotionally I don’t think I could carry everyone else’s baggage. It would be too much for my soul. But I do hope to be able to see one someday, I think everyone could use the help from a professional to learn about themselves and their relationships.
Tiera Smart
I begged for her to help me. She insisted that I didnt need the help i believed i did. This so called Counselor turned me away, when i needed her the most. That is why i cannot trust a soul
kylee
okay so holy shit the guidance counselor at a school is all like “well i cant even guide my own students how can i guide myself” so they fall into a kind of existential crisis and then they embark on a journey and then they get divorced and buy a cat because for the sake of guidance they have to do it for themselves and it turns out real well
Teagan Wolf
Counselor. We have three or four counselors at our school, but I have never seen any of them. The seventh grade counselor, this year is Ms. Seig, and I really like her, but I don’t want to actually go see her.
my school counselor was nice she helped with lots idk what else to write hi there friends the timer is still going when will it stop send help i need attention.
Macki
It wasn’t long before she realized there was a strong awkwardness between her and Pete. He had been prodding at her, interviewing her without her realizing. He was becoming her counselor. Backhandedly trying to adjust her attitude.
Yo mama is so fat that her belly button got home 15 min before her head did.
Yo mama
I am a counselor. I listen to people’s stories and struggles that they are having about their lives. Personally I need to see a counselor to get help with weight loss. But I don’t trust that just talking about this struggle is going to help me. I just don’t know.
Diane
I have been finding out my origin story. It has changed my opinions on my self and my family. I am rewriting my own history and this time I’m telling the truth.
Georgia Traher
I have been going to counseling for about 8 months now. I change counselors every 8-9 weeks due to the nature of the program I am in. It has been very interesting to see the differences in approaches of the various counselors I have worked with. My current counselor is very formal, but seems very thorough. She asks good questions that really get me thinking.
Andrew
I looked into his grey eyes, as they looked into mine.
He read me slowly. Languidly. A sun examining a storm cloud. Then he spoke. “You will only find your answer if you look inside your soul.”
I went home that day disappointed. Again.
i was on my way seeing the counselor when i saw her. standing underneath the tree, with bruises on her arms. she didn’t see me, she was too focused on her books. lights streaming through the leaves and forming delicate patterns on her face.
Tasya
She leaned back in the the chair, hoping that if she adhered her body more closely to the upholstery she might just melt into it. Ms. Jones sat and waited, blinking noncommittally at her. The clock on the loud was practically singing it’s minutes.
Do you have a problem? Well come to me! Ill magic up a solution and solve your mystery. Whisper your deepest darkest secrets, the problem that you ponder, the puzzle, the riddle. Don’t fret or be afraid as I will save the day…
I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t accept the fact that he was gone and wasn’t coming back. People said that my dad got shot, but I don’t really know what happened. They sent me to the counselor.
A counselor is there to help with your problem in life. To guide you and help make the right decisions. I wish I had one.. But at the same time I don’t. Being secretive is my thing. And having to share your whole life story with somebody who you’ve never met before seems like a daunting experience.
I guess they can help you sometimes. But only sometimes.
In the end you’re alone, fighting your demons, alone..
I don’t actually know if I believe in any of the counselors I have ever met. I feel bad for being dismissive of the profession, but it’s so broad and ambiguous. Or at least my idea of them is broad and ambiguous.
We meet to talk every now and again. The topic changes from week to week, jumps from concern to concern, one philosophy to another, the burden of responsibility, and sometimes the pain of upholding them. The hours melt away, but she never minded, and always paid the bill on time, no matter how horrid the number.
I see the days pass and the weight on her shoulders has not so much disappeared as become invisible – formless, but all there the same. Our conversations change course but the hours still flow into one another without break. The bills still get paid. I turn the lights off and in my last moments of consciousness, ask myself what we’ll end up talking about next.
In that same moment, I could not help but feel that I had become the patient, and she the counselor.
Listen to my plight
Hear my cry
Then speak to me a word
That upon lie’s darkness
Shines truth’s light
Counselor, oracle, sage
Bestow upon me wisdom
My fears and insecurities assuage
poetwarrior
I couldn’t be a school counselor because I’d get too into the kids’ heads. So far, I had made seven high schoolers weep in my office. I made another one hyperventilate. One complained of frequent nightmares. I was banned from Hope High School. I’ve never gone back.
Well, that’s a lie. I found a way back through the vents. I stay in the walls, where they can’t see me. And I listen.
Belinda Roddie
Can you call such a smile fake? the feeling is real- it’s okay, I’m here, fill me with your words- and yet there is a strain at the edges. ‘tend to us too,’ they whisper to the dimples. It is a burden they bear. To slip would be to die; a tragic death of an unsustainable character. Run off fumes of conviction and syphoning off happiness taken in through the eyes. Are you better now? I’ll collect my payment when you are not watching. I’ll bottle a sample for your newfound laughter for myself. I need none of my own.
It’s okay.
I’m still here.
It’s okay.
vacillating pigeon, writing a message,
an inscription on his arm.
if a paint brush was used to communicate,
why was cortisol dispensed?
Mongrels raining out of nowhere,
killing off the frogs and leaches in the lakes they invaded.
angst triples. Hatred surging from seasides.
Calculations clash into walls.
Balcony covers removed. The sun stays and watches.
Why were tulips snatched from such a bottomless part in a blackhole of a
stritation of outerspace-sih earth?
The grave harsh people despise me. Who has the right to hate when hatred was only a distant mirage?
The high school counselor started each consultation with a lengthy prayer. The students joked that she was praying for a semblance of competence. God failed her in that department, as in so many others. Students came with outlandish stories just to see her squirm. Sally Mae Jones confessed to oral sex and later told her peers that the counselor had fallen to her knees and started speaking in tongues. Sally Mae pulled her chair closer and said, “Hey, if you want to, I’m willing.” The counselor told the principal to expel Sally Mae but the principal decided school would be too boring without her and fired the counselor instead.
I used to want to be a counselor. I think it would be awesome to be able to help people delve into who they are and what makes them tick. Plus, who doesn’t want to know everything about people and to learn what issues they are dealing with. I did realize (thankfully earlier in life than later) that emotionally I don’t think I could carry everyone else’s baggage. It would be too much for my soul. But I do hope to be able to see one someday, I think everyone could use the help from a professional to learn about themselves and their relationships.
I begged for her to help me. She insisted that I didnt need the help i believed i did. This so called Counselor turned me away, when i needed her the most. That is why i cannot trust a soul
okay so holy shit the guidance counselor at a school is all like “well i cant even guide my own students how can i guide myself” so they fall into a kind of existential crisis and then they embark on a journey and then they get divorced and buy a cat because for the sake of guidance they have to do it for themselves and it turns out real well
Counselor. We have three or four counselors at our school, but I have never seen any of them. The seventh grade counselor, this year is Ms. Seig, and I really like her, but I don’t want to actually go see her.
my school counselor was nice she helped with lots idk what else to write hi there friends the timer is still going when will it stop send help i need attention.
It wasn’t long before she realized there was a strong awkwardness between her and Pete. He had been prodding at her, interviewing her without her realizing. He was becoming her counselor. Backhandedly trying to adjust her attitude.
Yo mama is so fat that her belly button got home 15 min before her head did.
I am a counselor. I listen to people’s stories and struggles that they are having about their lives. Personally I need to see a counselor to get help with weight loss. But I don’t trust that just talking about this struggle is going to help me. I just don’t know.
I have been finding out my origin story. It has changed my opinions on my self and my family. I am rewriting my own history and this time I’m telling the truth.
I have been going to counseling for about 8 months now. I change counselors every 8-9 weeks due to the nature of the program I am in. It has been very interesting to see the differences in approaches of the various counselors I have worked with. My current counselor is very formal, but seems very thorough. She asks good questions that really get me thinking.
I looked into his grey eyes, as they looked into mine.
He read me slowly. Languidly. A sun examining a storm cloud. Then he spoke. “You will only find your answer if you look inside your soul.”
I went home that day disappointed. Again.
i was on my way seeing the counselor when i saw her. standing underneath the tree, with bruises on her arms. she didn’t see me, she was too focused on her books. lights streaming through the leaves and forming delicate patterns on her face.
She leaned back in the the chair, hoping that if she adhered her body more closely to the upholstery she might just melt into it. Ms. Jones sat and waited, blinking noncommittally at her. The clock on the loud was practically singing it’s minutes.
Do you have a problem? Well come to me! Ill magic up a solution and solve your mystery. Whisper your deepest darkest secrets, the problem that you ponder, the puzzle, the riddle. Don’t fret or be afraid as I will save the day…
I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t accept the fact that he was gone and wasn’t coming back. People said that my dad got shot, but I don’t really know what happened. They sent me to the counselor.
A counselor is there to help with your problem in life. To guide you and help make the right decisions. I wish I had one.. But at the same time I don’t. Being secretive is my thing. And having to share your whole life story with somebody who you’ve never met before seems like a daunting experience.
I guess they can help you sometimes. But only sometimes.
In the end you’re alone, fighting your demons, alone..
“A… counselor?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
“They’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Who’s ‘they?'”
I don’t actually know if I believe in any of the counselors I have ever met. I feel bad for being dismissive of the profession, but it’s so broad and ambiguous. Or at least my idea of them is broad and ambiguous.
We meet to talk every now and again. The topic changes from week to week, jumps from concern to concern, one philosophy to another, the burden of responsibility, and sometimes the pain of upholding them. The hours melt away, but she never minded, and always paid the bill on time, no matter how horrid the number.
I see the days pass and the weight on her shoulders has not so much disappeared as become invisible – formless, but all there the same. Our conversations change course but the hours still flow into one another without break. The bills still get paid. I turn the lights off and in my last moments of consciousness, ask myself what we’ll end up talking about next.
In that same moment, I could not help but feel that I had become the patient, and she the counselor.
Listen to my plight
Hear my cry
Then speak to me a word
That upon lie’s darkness
Shines truth’s light
Counselor, oracle, sage
Bestow upon me wisdom
My fears and insecurities assuage
I couldn’t be a school counselor because I’d get too into the kids’ heads. So far, I had made seven high schoolers weep in my office. I made another one hyperventilate. One complained of frequent nightmares. I was banned from Hope High School. I’ve never gone back.
Well, that’s a lie. I found a way back through the vents. I stay in the walls, where they can’t see me. And I listen.
Can you call such a smile fake? the feeling is real- it’s okay, I’m here, fill me with your words- and yet there is a strain at the edges. ‘tend to us too,’ they whisper to the dimples. It is a burden they bear. To slip would be to die; a tragic death of an unsustainable character. Run off fumes of conviction and syphoning off happiness taken in through the eyes. Are you better now? I’ll collect my payment when you are not watching. I’ll bottle a sample for your newfound laughter for myself. I need none of my own.
It’s okay.
I’m still here.
It’s okay.