MassaHJ
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Chapter 23 therapist II
🕑 Added 2025-04-01 23:37:46 +0000 UTCI shifted slightly in my seat, letting her words settle in the silence. Then I said, “I'm not so sure I can agree with you. I don’t think I’m an empathetic person.”
Dr. Freeman tilted her head, letting me continue without interruption.
“Most of the time, I despise weakness. I look at people struggling—people who can't seem to get it together—and I feel... disgust more than sympathy. And sometimes, I know it’s not even their fault.”
She leaned back slightly, hands resting gently on the arms of her chair. “Go on.”
“I can rationalize that circumstances play a part, sure. Bad luck, bad parents, bad health. But that doesn’t stop the feeling. I don’t admire people for enduring—I admire people for rising. For dominating their situation. Everyone else just feels like background noise.”
Dr. Freeman remained quiet, studying me carefully. “That sounds like contempt disguised as strength. But I don’t think you truly despise weakness, Jake. I think you fear becoming it.”
That hit a little closer than I liked.
“I’ve spent so long analyzing people,” I said, voice steady. “Trying to understand them, categorize them. Weak, strong. Useful, irrelevant. It’s efficient, sure. But maybe not human.”
“And yet here you are,” she said softly, “talking to a stranger about the very things most adults never say out loud. That doesn’t come from apathy. That’s the voice of someone who cares so deeply, he has to protect himself behind intellect.”
I looked at her. Really looked. “I still don’t agree. I don’t think I care deeply. I just know I can’t say these opinions out loud. And maybe I’m here because a part of me wants someone to witness some of my demons.”
I paused for a moment before continuing.
“More than that, I believe—as Machiavelli did—that between being and appearing, it’s more important to appear. Because few people can ever truly know who you are. And I still want to appear morally superior. And in professional and personal terms, appearances matter a lot.”
Dr. Freeman gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “Yes, appearances do matter. They shape how we're perceived, how we’re treated, even the opportunities we're given. But they’re not the whole picture.”
She leaned forward slightly. “Let me ask you this, Jake. If someone truly knew you—saw behind the mask, saw your demons, your calculations, your fears—and still accepted you… would that matter to you?”
“Yes, obviously. Maybe that person would become one of my best friends. Maybe even my best friend,” I said, then added in French, “Parce que c'était lui, parce que c'était moi.”
“‘Because it was he, because it was I.’ It’s a Montaigne phrase about Étienne. For me, one of the best definitions of friendship. He isn’t my friend because he agrees with me, or because we like the same things, or because we’re alike. He’s my friend simply because he is who he is, and I am who I am. Not a mirror. Not an echo in a bubble. And we like each other not because of, but in spite of.”
Dr. Freeman smiled gently. “That’s beautifully put. And I think you just described the kind of connection every human being secretly longs for, whether they admit it or not. Do you have any friends like that?”
“No,” I said quietly. “Not in that definition. One of the reasons I want to move ahead is the hope that maybe, just maybe, I’ll meet someone who sees the world even remotely like I do.”
She nodded, her expression softening. “It’s not wrong to want connection, Jake. And wanting to surround yourself with people who challenge and inspire you doesn’t make you cold. It means you’re ready for more.”
I exhaled slowly, my posture relaxing just a bit.
“I hope so,” I said. “Because if not… then I’m just skipping ahead to more loneliness, only in a different classroom.”
Dr. Freeman was silent for a moment. Then she said, “That fear... that you’ll outpace others only to find yourself even more isolated—that’s valid. But what you’re forgetting is that growth also expands your possibilities. Not just intellectually. Emotionally, too.”
“Yeah, I think so too.”
She looked at me for a moment, then asked, “Have you ever considered going even further?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Further how?”
“Like college, for instance,” she said. “You’re clearly more advanced than most high school students. Honestly, a lot of adults couldn’t articulate some of the things you’ve expressed today.”
“Yes, I’ve thought about it,” I replied. “But here’s the thing—I'm way beyond my peers. I can solve integrals and derivatives, college-level math problems. But I will never solve a Diophantine equation, the Riemann Hypothesis or Goldbach’s Conjecture. I’m far ahead right now, but give it a few years, and the true geniuses will come along and surpass me by miles, way beyond my capacity.”
I paused, then added, “It’s like Salieri and Mozart. Salieri worked hard and was considered one of the greatest pianists of his time. But Mozart was Mozart. And it’s Mozart we remember.”
“And the socialization would be even harder because of the age gap. If I’m not going to be Mozart... is the sacrifice really worth it?”
Dr. Freeman nodded thoughtfully. “But that thinking assumes your value is tied only to being the very best in the room. What if it’s enough to be excellent in your own right—even if someone else is a genius?”
I didn’t respond at first. Then I said, “I think I’d be okay with that, but only if I had a real passion for it. I don’t have a passion for math. I don’t feel refreshed after studying it. So, if I’m not going to be the next Gauss, I don’t think it’s worth the sacrifice. And that includes most other subjects too.”
I leaned back slightly. “What I really love is economics—especially finance and investment. Not the theoretical stuff. I love studying markets. I love investing. And, ironically... I’m already the best in the world.” Not because of raw talent, but because of my past life. Funny how that works. Maybe when God hates you enough, He gives you what you once prayed for. If I ever prayed to be the best investor in the world, now I'm.
Dr. Freeman raised an eyebrow, curious.
