The shutters shuddered closed

"You need to see a counselor," she said, "you need to talk with someone." I was floored. I couldn't believe she was saying this to me. I couldn't react; she didn't give me time to because she was out the door with her lunch a minute after proclaiming all the reasons why. I sat looking as though I'd seen a wolf. I was still too stunned to know how I felt. A couple minutes later with bitter tea roiling in my stomach my mind reeled with frustration. She didn't know anything about my situation and for her to exclaim this two seconds before bolting was extremely discourteous. Who was she to decide what was right for me? She said she was concerned about me. I couldn't believe it.

I felt fine before, now I felt flawed. I didn't have problems with what I was doing to date, but now she made me feel like I was a drug-addict whore. How could she treat me so uncivilly: declaring this sanctimonious shit and promptly sauntering out the door? I didn't have time to try to reason or discuss with her what she thought was wrong. She just flung it all at me before she flung herself away. Were she someone I had been randomly matched up with through the residence staff, I wouldn't have been offended. But there she was, a good friend of mine that I'd known for years, looking down her nose at me with compassion dripping from her fraudulent eyes.

I can't believe this is happening to me.