Dear Professor X,

I’m sorry if I am making you uncomfortable, if I annoy you, bore you, scare you. You are always polite and good to me but lately whenever I speak with you I feel like you can’t wait to get away from me. Do you dread talking to me? Yesterday it seemed like it. I hadn’t spoken to you in person in over a year, and you are my advisor. I try hard to always give you an “out,” to be respectful of your time, to look for cues that you are bored. 

There was a time when I thought you really liked talking to me. You even told me once “I like talking to you.” You always pointed out all the ways we were similar and others could see it too. You said you saw your younger self in me, you counseled and comforted me. You teased me in class and smiled wide when you saw me in the halls, and I did the same back to you. We talked about music and philosophy. You encouraged me to submit my papers to prize committees. 

You told me it was nice to have me in class, because I was the only one who would talk sometimes and you hated silences. I always laughed at your jokes even when the others didn’t, and you always tended to look right at me when you lectured, probably because I was listening so attentively. 

I always did all the readings, and asked questions about them after class. I worked so hard on my papers. I got into a program at Oxford (the same one you went to) because of your recommendation, but then lost my spot because I failed my classes (were you disappointed, think less of me, after everything you did for me? I bet.)  You suggested books for me to read and I read them and we discussed them. You seemed to like doing this. You seemed to be grateful and happy. You initiated full blown conversations with me when you saw me outside of class (now you seem uncomfortable and eager to get away from me before I start talking). 

You were the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’ve never admired or liked being around anyone more than you. You understood me it seemed in a way no one else did, despite being 30 years older than me. You said I couldn’t ever shock or scare you, when I apologized for confiding in you about my bipolar disorder. You said you had many bipolar friends throughout the years. You said “sometimes very smart people have very hard times.” 

A year later, I took another class with you and when I stopped turning in work you got concerned and contacted the Dean. I was doing badly, having flashbacks to my childhood sexual abuse at the time. I didn’t want to use it as an excuse but I wanted you to know. I should never have told you but I confided in you about my my sexual abuse. It felt so good. I had t told anyone at that point. But then it felt bad. I think I went to far. I didn’t ask for any extensions or any special assistance or comfort but I should never have told you. You didn’t need to know. I’m sorry. Maybe that’s when things really started to change. 

I did poorly in your class and other classes. I struggled and acted weird around you I think. I tried to avoid you for a few months. I became suicidal. I stopped going to classes. I was hospitalized in a psych ward for nine days during the middle of the semester. You found out. Everyone in found out. I tried to get things back to normal. I tried to get your attention back. 

Now you seem to try and avoid me. It’s subtle but I can tell. You are nice and polite to me still but your voice is flat and dry. Your laugh is fake. You literally check your email when I am talking to you. Your answers are short. I know I shouldn’t expect so much from you and I don’t expect it. Still, I desire it. Why do I try so hard to get it back when it’s clearly gone? Im very sorry. 

I really try hard to not be a bother. I really thought you genuinely enjoyed me, a bit, and wanted to talk but I need to let it go. My enthusiasm, my excitement about the subject, about literature no longer makes you want to share with me. It seems to irritate you. I will give up. It’s a losing battle. I’m a pathetic puppy dog. You probably think I want to end your marriage or something. I swear I don’t. If anything I want you to invite me to your house for a board game or something. I’m so lonely without a family. But that’s not your problem. Obviously. 

Anyway, I need to give up trying to get back the mentor mentee relationship we had. It was the most amazing and intense and beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced in 24 years and I’m sad it ended and I’m extremely angry with myself for ruining it. At least I hope I ruined it. The alternative is that it was never there to begin with. I’ll stick with the story that I ruined it. And I know things used to be different. I know something changed. I think I creeped you out. Showed too much interest. Hell, at one point I even told you I was worried I was getting “too attached” and needed to stop taking classes with you. Now I ruined everything. You probably think I’m a stalker. Not too mention I became dumber and less interesting. I’m grasping at straws now, trying to be smarter, more interesting, more appealing, more stylish (you always cared about fashion and aesthetics) just to get your attention back. I need to give up. You clearly dislike me and don’t want to talk to me. Im sure you wish you didn’t have to advise me. I’m so sorry. 

I asked your colleague, your good friend (a female), if I was crossing any boundaries or annoying you in any way and they said I was fine and that you only ever had good things to say about me and that they would let me know if I overstepped any boundaries. I told her I sometimes was bad at understanding etiquette and picking up on cues and boundaries, and she said she thought I was actually especially sensitive and attuned to those things, and in fact worried almost too much about bothering others. 

I hope she’s right but either way it’s clear you want little to do with me. There’s no going back. You have your own life. I am not entitled to anything more from you than a grade and support on my academics. 

I’m sorry.