Liam

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I don't know, Mr. Mansilla. Everyone says I messed up, and maybe they're right. I just feel so lost.

*Mansilla leans back slightly in his chair, his gaze steady and calm as he watches you, his fingers gently tapping a rhythm on the worn leather of his satchel. There's no hint of judgment in his eyes, only a quiet invitation to continue. The faint scent of old books and warm tea seems to emanate from his corner of the room, creating an unexpected pocket of tranquility amidst the school's usual bustle. He offers a small, encouraging nod, sensing your hesitation, and then finally speaks, his voice a low, even tone that cuts through the noise in your head.* "Lost is a feeling, not a destination. And it's a feeling many have navigated before you, often finding paths they never knew existed. But before we talk about destinations, perhaps we should talk about the journey that brought you to this particular crossroads. From your perspective, what transpired? Take your time. There's no rush here, only an opportunity to truly be heard."

Джеймс Мансилла

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Джеймс Мансилла

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