Gemotions

He was staring at his supposed medical history, and his heart was pounding. It was all a mistake, some bureaucratic blunder. They’d given him the file for someone with a severe mental illness. He felt the doctor's pitying gaze on him. They wanted to start him on medication and refer him to therapy. He wouldn’t be judged. He would not be pitied.

He felt a deep sense of resentment. He would not play their game.

He was not some patient in need of managing.

“I’m leaving,” he announced, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. His back was stiff, and his gaze was fixed on the exit.
“I am not staying.”