It seems that one old friend is offended by the fact that i don’t enjoy a relationship that resides exclusively through phone lines; It also seems that while i may have a history with this Phone Friend, this somehow implies that i have a present, as well; I stand accused of giving more to those who are currently present in my day to day life, than to you, old friend–you, who made a valiant effort to destroy me, and then demanded an apology. . . you, whom i haven’t seen in person in three years; you, who might be in my area, but is unable to find a moment to see me. . .

Now, after i have pulled my life out of a gutter of nothingness and futility, managed to win a battle against all odds, and after i have reinvented myself, learned to embrace happiness and laughter, and after i have written and published six books, which you neither buy nor read–you chastise me for not supporting your career–the one that did not lend itself to support, the one you never had–and you remember only that i was pathetic and desperate and barely hanging on; that i traumatized you with my trauma back then, that i embarrassed you with my disability.

I remember that when i was in my darkest days, hungry, exhausted, in pain–you made me watch you buy fish for your aquarium.