Not the right time

I think he thought I sounded cold when I said that I already had friends to talk to about this kind of shit. He replied by saying something about blood. I asked how many times in the past had I come to him with problems. Obviously there was silence. I stopped short of saying that he didn’t know me and that most of the time it felt like it was too late to even consider making efforts to change that. I don’t think he could have handled that, and even though my headache was trying to coax me into ending the conversation as quickly as possible for its sake, and to just close the door and lie down, I didn’t want to hurt someone needlessly without any real reason. There were a few pauses and at points I would have to repeat certain parts of our talk to illustrate how this wasn’t an argument and how I wasn’t being antagonistic. I can’t recall how it ended. It was ten minutes ago, maybe more. I was on autopilot. Death death death.