Dear Quarter-Life-Crisis,

You don't need to be here, but I'm happy to see you anyway. I'm happy to see you because I'm tired. The clinic is underfunded and I'm underpaid. I work too much and my personal life is ****. That's why I run so much. The vast majority of my clients face endemic social issues I am, basically, powerless to address: Homelessness, poverty, lack of education and employment. Most of them are heroin addicts. This is the population to whom I have chosen to dedicate my life.

You come in and talk about Descartes. And Beavers.

I wish you'd talk about Descartes less because I find it dull and it makes me feel stupid. Other times, when your extended adolescence is sticking out like a sore thumb, you ask me easy questions. Like how to file a w-2 and whether beavers eat fish. I went to school too many years to be a glorified guidance counselor for Millennials, which is why I don't work with people like you full time, but it still flatters my ego to feel knowledgeable.

Please stop writing my inner monologue now. It's weird and you have better things to do with your time. Maybe go breathe mindfully or something, M'kay?

Best,

T