I remember watching an episode of House not too long ago. “Histories” was the name of this particular story. In it, House notices that his oncologist friend, James, has been leaving abruptly from work. At the end of the episode, House tails James to a derelict street corner, and asks James why he has been leaving to visit this place.
James tells House about his brother, Danny, who had suffered from schizophrenia during his college years. James recounts a time when he was studying for an important final, and neglected to help his brother when he needed him. James gets a call the next day from his mother, saying that Danny had run off. To that day, Danny has been presumed homeless, and James visited that street corner every day over the past four years because that’s where Danny was last seen.
That is honestly my biggest fear. That when I need someone the most,
they’ll forsake me and I’ll slip through the cracks, just like Danny, never to be found again.
It scares me so fucking much.