Winnipeg, Manitoba
October 9, 2000
Dear Marce,
You're not the first person to wonder why I'm studying psychology. I've thought about it a lot and I still don't really have an answer. I just keep coming back to this vision I have of myself somewhere in the distant future. I have this vision of me one day being a psychologist and there I am in my little room waiting for my next client and in he comes and he's tall and handsome and conservatively dressed in a suit and tie and middle-aged and he seems a little nervous. He's got a beautiful smile, and a very firm handshake, and we say hello and he sits down beside me and then he says it. He tells me he wants to die. And then I know that this is my opportunity to redeem myself. It's my second chance, and this one I can't fuck up. What do I say?
But none of that questioning makes me feel any less guilty. So, seeing as how I'm going to feel guilty, why not let guilt be what compels me to study psychology? Why not let guilt be the thing that makes me attempt to ease someone's pain, however slightly. Isn't it better than me saying: I think I'm very good with people, I think I'll study psychology. Or: I've had feelings of sadness in my life so I think I'll be a very good psychologist. Or: I seem to be very good at keeping my shit together, I think I'd be good at telling other people how to live their lives, using my own tremendous success as a type of standard.
And then I said no, no, no, I kind of yelled it actually, and I remember thinking what a useless fucking word that is, no, and then, for whatever reason, I threw my two tablets of Tylenol at Richard and went into the house and slammed the door. | |
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