A Letter to My Therapist

Dear Doctor—

I'm sorry I missed my Friday session. I'm sitting on the Greyhound right now and I can't help but imagine you sitting in your office, waiting for me to come in even though I won't because I ran away to California to find gold.

Yes, Doctor (I can hear you talking out loud as you read this. Or at least I think I can. Ha!) I know the Gold Rush was 150 years ago. I know that. You don't think I know that? Because I do. But it's like this.

I don't want to be who I am. I don't want that feeling I get when I wake up in the morning and realize I have to be this person again. I do not desire any of this. (that's what you always say this is about, right? Desire? Wanting things? Things you can't have? You don't deserve? That are bad for you?) But I’ve had a breakthrough: desire pushes through the limit of what is possible; it does not recognize it and retreat. It changes who we are, it changes us into what we seek.

I desired to be someone else and I ended up not recognizing what I saw.

But now, now I'm looking for gold. Because I always wanted to feel precious myself.