I wish you would text me before my other appointment in the morning. You didn't last time though, so you probably won't this time. You could have at least mentioned it when you texted me about scheduling today. I know that's outside of our usual boundaries, but this is different, right?
Maybe it'll go fine and we'll have nothing to talk about and I'll decide I must have been faking my reaction the last few times.
Maybe I'll dissociate or cry again and still not know why. Which still isn't really anything to talk about. What is there to say? There's nothing to work with.
I know it's terrible, but I almost wish there was something to remember, something to work through, an explanation.
You were so concerned and kind and compassionate and gentle the first time when I told you. I wish I deserved that. Instead I just feel icky and guilty because I know that I don't. I feel like a liar and a fraud for letting you be concerned, for letting myself consider the possibility that there's something to be concerned about even though I know there isn't.
I still wish you'd text me.