Chapter I- A Talk With Gabriel
Dear diary... or to whom it may concern,
I don’t really know why I’m writing this. Maybe it’s the word “diary” itself that feels ridiculous. Or maybe it’s because Gabriel suggested it. I’m not sure anything I say here will be interesting, but I feel like I have to do it—even if I ramble a little.
The reason I started this diary was a conversation with my school counselor, Gabriel.
Gabriel is a young adult, probably around 25. He wears glasses because, according to him, he’s had blurry vision since he was a kid. Every time I walk into his office, I feel smaller, like he’s somehow taller or more powerful than me.
I remember exactly how it all started. I was in science class, arguing with my friend Fernández about whether animals have souls like humans do. Typical of us—philosophizing while the teacher talks. Then, a classmate walked into the room and called my name. The teacher let me go, and that’s how I ended up in an unexpected meeting with the school counselor... who, by the way, I didn’t even know existed.
I’ve been in this high school for years and had no idea someone like him worked here. He would’ve been helpful when I first arrived, because making friends was hell. It wasn’t until halfway through the first year that I met Fernández—a restless athlete who seemed to know exactly who he was.
From what I can tell, most of the class secretly admires him... or at least that’s what I hear in the hallways. Not that I care much, but sometimes I wonder: what do people think of me?
Anyway, like I said, my counselor—Gabriel, if I hadn’t mentioned his name—called me in. And the first time I walked into his office, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. There was something about him that made him intimidating. I heard he used to be in the Naval Academy before becoming a counselor, which makes him even more intense.
(Soft knock at the door)
Demian (nervously): ...
Gabriel (smiling): Come in.
Demian walks in awkwardly and sits across from him.
Demian: I’d love to ask why I’m here, but... I don’t know. Maybe this was a mistake.
Gabriel: It’s not a mistake, Demian. I’ve been reviewing your grades lately, and they’ve dropped significantly. Also... I’ve received some complaints from classmates about things you’ve said.
Demian: Complaints? What kind of things?
Gabriel: Tell me, Demian, how have you been feeling lately?
I stopped to think, and I didn’t know such a simple question could be so hard to answer.
Demian: I don’t know... Why am I here?
Gabriel: You’re here because it’s my job to help you finish the year with better grades. The school called me after receiving some complaints about your behavior—or about a drawing you did—that apparently confused, scared, or alarmed someone.
Don’t worry about what they’re saying. I want to hear it from you. If you don’t know where to begin, I can guide you.
Gabriel: Do you know where you are and why you’re here?
Demian: Yes. (awkwardly) I’m in my counselor’s office, and I’m here to improve my grades and take care of my mental health.
Gabriel: Perfect. Tell me a little about yourself. What do you do after school? Any hobbies?
Demian: Yeah. I read comics, I like video games, I like writing. I want to be a writer.
Gabriel: What kind of things do you write?
Demian: I’m not sure. I’m working on a novel, but I don’t know if it’s any good.
Gabriel: That’s fine. Can you tell me how you’re feeling right now? Or maybe share something about why you haven’t turned in your assignments?
Demian: I feel weird... a bit confused. I’ve been hearing about things I’ve done that I don’t remember doing—like drawings, or saying things I swear I never said. But honestly, I don’t know what to tell you.
Gabriel: Do you think keeping a journal might help you figure out what to share next time?
Demian: (confused, picturing another conversation like this) I guess.
Gabriel: Then how about I give you this notebook?
Demian: Sure.
It was a notebook with black cats on the cover. I love cats. They’re amazing—especially black ones. In fact, it’s said that black cats are the best at clearing people of negative energy.
