Emotionless

Spending an hour everyday for a week with someone I have never met because the school's principal thinks there is something mentally wrong with me sounds exciting. I suppose, but maybe I will end up with answers I never wanted in the first place. What will I do then? I look up from my notebook to find Mrs. Grett sitting behind her desk. My head tilts slightly to the right side in confusion as I stare at her, trying to figure out how and when she appeared there.
"Something wrong?" she asks, slight concern in her voice.
"Where did you come from?" I pause to watch her, but before she can answer I continue, "I mean, you weren't there a bit ago, I didn't hear you come in."
Mrs. Grett licks her lips and stares at me. She just watches for a bit, not doing anything else. When she speaks, it's another question, "Did you know, when you write you lose yourself in your thoughts?" I feel as though we are playing a staring game. One moment it is her staring at me, next it is I to her. The cycle repeats, alternating between the two of is. This time, it is my turn to stare. I stare because I have no other thoughts on how to react toward her question. Did I know that? No, I didn't. How would I have known? I am inside my mind, I don't pay attention to anything around me. I wouldn't know that I completely check out, that when I'm writing, it is just my mind and me. Nothing else; no-one else.
"No," is all I say in response after a bit of silence between us. She nods, and neither of us say anything for a bit. She reads through papers on her desk while I sit here watching her, trying to figure her out.
A thought comes to mind, and I itch to write it down. All I want is to pull my notebook out so I can peacefully write down what is on my mind. My hands become fidgety as I try my hardest to continue paying attention to Mrs. Grett, and as I try to keep myself out of my mind. That is what got me here in the first place, isn't it?
I pick up my pen, tapping it against my notebook in a means to try to distract me. I switch my eyes from Mrs. Grett to the clock, allowing my eyes to move the full circle a couple times, following the second hand before turning my attention back to Mrs. Grett. She's watching me, staring at me, analyzing me. I know she is trying to figure me out, and I need to write this down. I need for it to go in my notebook while the thoughts are fresh, but what will she say if I open my notebook and start writing? She already knows the world around me doesn't exist when it comes to this notebook. It is just the two of us.
Not being able to handle the stress and overload of thoughts inside my head, I open the notebook, pouring everything that has been running through my head onto its pages. I don't feel her eyes on me, but I know they're there. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know she's watching me.
What does she think about when she stares at me? What goes through her head? Does she believe something is wrong with me? I sigh before skipping a line and continuing to write, Is there something wrong with me? Is it normal to carry a notebook with you every where you go, relying on it to make you feel better? Is it normal to nearly have a panic attack because you cannot write in said notebook (or feel like you can't write in the notebook)? Something tells me none of this is 'normal.' But really, what is normal? I know normal is the majority, and I know the majority of people don't fully rely on paper twenty-four/seven to make sure their thoughts don’t get overwhelming. But does this mean there is something wrong with me? I know it sets me apart from people, but is that so wrong? ..Is it?
I bit my lip as I close my notebook and look up at Mrs. Grett, "There is something wrong with me, isn't there?" She just smiles, and everything is silent once again.