I Am the Problem

I often get this feeling, this intuition that others perceive me as the problem.

If only I would go away, curl up in some corner and die, then their lives would be just dandy. It is all my fault; they are Angels, and I am the Devil.

I am picking this intuition up now, in spades. “He, that bastard Taylor is the problem!!”

In this therapeutic situation, I am the problem. Really…?

Who comes first the patient or your ego…?

This could escalate…

I do not tend to cow down and back off.

“He asks too many questions, how dare he?”

If this is going to be the Kurukshetra, which it might turn out to be.

I am going to research this subject to depths hitherto unknown.

To be told by a nurse that “frankly you ask too many questions” is fucked up and really rude.

It is beyond the pale…

I am close to livid about this…