Go. Away.

I don't know how it happened, but I've started to hate men.

And by men I mean you, over there, with the Y chromosome. All of you, save for maybe 5 or 6 of you. You're probably also white and have never been diagnosed as mentally ill. But you might have; what do I know?

I'm sick of all of you "worrying" about me. I'm sick of you thinking that you know what's best for me. I'm sick of you trying to control me. Sick of the snide remarks about my choices in life: sexual, chemical, financial, or emotional. These things are not your business.

I'm tired of hearing that I need to do this, that, or the other. I can no longer stand having to listen to your dramatic sighs and proselytizing. I don't want you to keep tabs on me. I'm an adult and I am capable of taking care of myself. I've probably been doing it longer than you have. If I need something, anything, from you, I'm completely capable of asking for it. Don't assume.

I don't care if you haven't realized that you're acting this way or not. Just go away until you know how to stop. I'm that tired of it. I have been listening to all of this for years and I bought into it until recently. Now I can't believe that I ever tolerated it in the first place.

Get a life.

Stop judging me.

I'm not singling anyone out: it's all of you unless you know otherwise or I haven't seen you in so long that it doesn't matter.

Because it bears repeating, stop judging me.

Yes, you are.

Few of the women in my life are doing this because they have (surprise, surprise) almost universally been where I have been. So they don't judge. They don't patronize. Most importantly, they don't treat me as fragile or a freak, the way you do. They get it. It should come as no shock that the majority of diagnoses for personality disorders are for women. That statistics says something important about the state of health care in this and other countries.

I wouldn't have believed this gender split if I weren't living it.

You know, I've really tried not to feel this way. But the overwhelming evidence that you all feel that you can run around deciding who and what I am -- again, all of you: how can it be all of you? -- is astounding. I mean, really, how did you get such a feeling of entitlement? You have no qualifications in regards to any medical diagnosis that I might have and the rest is simply none of your concern. Yet you are over-concerned with my life and well-being, to a disturbing, codependent level.

Your "help" is making things worse. Trust me. If you feel the need to talk about how much I should be listening to you and your ideas about how I run my life, call a professional. It's their job, not mine. My life is none of your business unless I make it such.

I'm not currently interested in apologies, either. Later on, when I've cooled off, sure. For right now, just go away.