When you called me in the hospital just now it seemed like you couldn’t wait to get off the phone.

I was hoping you’d offer to come see me. That is literally the only thing I can think of that I want right now. I don’t think I could ever ask but **** it maybe I should because I’m about to let the nice men in the white coats zap my brains out I might as well lay all the cards on the table.

I know that would be expecting a lot, especially from someone who is salaried and works for a clinic. But jesus christ t you do remember that pdoc just dropped out of my life with zero warning, right? And you get that I can’t tell my parents and you also get *why* I can’t tell my parents—I know you do because you’ve been encouraging me to separate from them. And the friends I have in this town are people I’ve known only since June and oh by the way THEY ARE ALL MY COWORKERS so I’m not exactly excited about having them come visit me on the G*DD*MN PSYCHIATRIC WARD.

Rationally I know that these things are not your fault. It does not make sense to be angry at you because my life is this way, or because you are behaving within the boundaries of your professional role as you understand them. But I am still sad and disappointed and angry and hurt.

And okay fine you haven’t offered to come see me and if I ask you’ll probably say no. (Though I dunno if I should ask because I dunno if I could forgive you if you said no. Irrational but true.) Could you at least offer me a bit of warmth over the phone? Would that have been that hard? I’ve never heard you so business-like—are you trying not to reward this state I’m in? You really appear to believe it isn’t my fault so it’s hard for me to understand why you’d go Skinnerian in me now (though I guess I’m applying behaviorism poorly here). Are you bad over the phone? Am I scaring you? Do you feel as hopeless as I do? WHAT IS IT?

Just... f you and f therapy and f consciousness and