Drunk (again)

Dear Jon -

You know that interview that I small-talked you about? Yeah, they didn't bother to call and interview me. I have no idea why. I emailed the clinical director at our program and she is being unsupportive. Fucking hell.

I'm drunk, trying to console myself about next year's folly. I am seriously considering txting you, but what would that accomplish? You're probably high or with someone else or going to completely ignore me.

I saw you today at chapel. You talked about how you can't be vulnerable, and it's your fault, and that you wish you would have had the courage to do things badly. Fuck you, Jon. How dare you say that? How dare you say that after all of this? Why couldn't you have had the courage to do things badly with me?

I'm so angry and so tired and I'm so scared about my whole fucking future career that I don't know what to do. Maybe I will txt you, I don't know. I'm so angry. I don't know what to do.

The courage to do things badly. Yes.

Am I supposed to have the courage to do things poorly? Am I supposed to confront you? How can I? I'm married, Jon. I'm married and I'm alone and I'm scared and I don't know what to do with myself. I'm so angry with you. I'm so, so angry.

Jon, please, I beg you, come to me. Just say something to me. I'm not going to be so self-centered as to assume what you said in chapel was about me or directed at me or anything of the sort. I can't very well confront you about that. Jon, please. Please say something to me. Please please please.

Fuck.

Batshit.

Batshit crazy.

I'm gonna go smoke and maybe txt you, I don't know.

- M.

I'm such a coward, I'm not going to txt you.

- M. (again)