It's nothing to do with me. Why did that damn woman have to write to me about it? I'd gone three weeks, the cold turkey symptoms were abating, and then I have to call you, have to talk to you about it.
It went okay actually, except that now you're back in my mind again and I can't think about anything else. I know why the letter brought up so much, so many old thoughts and fears; and I know they are things I don't really have to worry about.
But the fundamental point remains. I am not as important to you as you are to me. And that's understandable, to some degree it's okay. Except that it will always hurt.
