I walked into the office, taking a look around before I planted my behind in the soft black chair. The walls had been painted a stark white, though they were decorated with several objects; two drawings from his daughters, and some random painting of a beach. The painting was placed about three inches behind a frame of glass, and some fake sand was used to fill up that space, at least until the blue of the water came to the shore. I turned my head and looked over to his desk, seeing all of the scattered papers and books that had been strewn across it. His chair, one of those chairs with the wheels on the bottom, was facing away from the desk, the grey cushions looking dented, matching the contours of his body.

As I took my seat in the big black chair, he walked over from behind, as he had opened the door for me, allowing my entrance into the office. He took a seat in his own chair, then turned it around for a moment, clicking some things on his computer; things that I could not see. Finally, it was time for him to acknowledge me, something that I had been waiting for this whole time. He leaned back, looking optimistic and relaxed, as he always did. The typical introductions soon got out of the way, and then we were conversing like two normal people.

I rambled a bit, just allowing myself to vent about the typical boredoms of teenage life, and he listened to me, as he should have been doing. Eventually my venting got a little deeper, and I soon found myself in the same place that I always did, angry, upset with myself, and feeling like I could do nothing. That was always the dilemma, and even though we had made great progress over the past year and a half, it always came back to my own self-consciousness. I feared things that involved me, and no matter how far I moved past one fear, another, greater one would take the previous one's place! So he gave me an explanation, blunt as usual.

"I think that you unnecessarily limit yourself," he said in a frank tone. It wasn't harsh, quite the contrary actually; he sounded more like a friend. In this realization, I could not help but wonder if he was faking it or being sincere. I was just another client among many, but at the same time he had known me for quite a while, and perhaps he was saying what he thought to be true. He had never mislead me before nor had he faltered in his friendly ways, so why did I look at him with such apprehension? Was it because I'm afraid to see this? Am I afraid to admit my own imperfections, for no good reason? I don't think anyone likes to have their ego knocked back down to Earth, but for me, this felt so unique. Am I over glorifying myself? What makes my ego so special in contrast to everyone else's?

"Okay," only a few seconds had passed, but so many thoughts had run through my brain in that amount of time. "I guess I see your point." And that was that. We talked some more about what I should do whenever I feel that I'm unnecessarily limiting myself, then I left.

The car ride home was odd. I didn't talk much since I was thinking. For a while, I felt happy, like I could overcome this, but then I just slipped back into the same sadness that I had been feeling for nearly half of my life. There was doubt, unwillingness, and just an overall sense of self-loathing. I felt weak, unappreciated, and completely incapable of doing anything. I've come a long way from when I started, but it sucks to know that in spite all of this progress, I've barely moved off of square one.