Hypocrite.
You don't let yourself hear the voice until after the damage is done. Not until after you've grasped at soft flesh, perhaps a little less firm than your memory-driven fantasies. Not until after you've feasted on round breasts that fall just a little more than before.
Not until you've already ruined your chances.
Masochistic hypocrite...
She's already failed your tests, proven her unworthiness. You remember, when you had Lucas show her the photos of you in your cheerleading years. She scoffed at the evidence, dismissed it because it didn't fit that narrow paradigm she's made for you.
Because she didn't want to believe her picture of you was incomplete she dismissed her chance of knowing the real you.
There is more, much more that she doesn't know. More than you show. And she'll never know. Even if you show her she'll never see.
She's never known you. She never wants to know you. She's happy with her fantasy.
Why couldn't you just be happy with yours?
Idiot…
And now it's all falling apart. One night together. That was all you had before, once upon a med school. That's all you can give her now. Because if you give her more she'll destroy you. She'll destroy herself and you while trying to mold you to her fantasy.
You know she'll never understand. That lack of understanding could cost you your job, your friendship, your life…
It's kinder to leave her to her fantasy. Let her keep her fantasies.
Yours have died today. You let them die.
You should have listened to your test results. Everybody lies, but people lie more than tests.
Hypocrite.