I am watching a movie.

I know it isn’t real.

My body recognizes the cut.

Care stops

mid-escalation.

No handoff.

No witness.

Just: session over.

This is what my surgery felt like.

Not the cutting.

The release.

Same day.

Still fogged.

Still open.

They changed the light

and sent me into traffic.

No crossing guard.

This has a name.

Rupture.

Care withdrawn

at the point of highest risk

without protection.

There is a rule against this.

When risk is high

the light isn’t enough.

You walk

when the crossing guard

signals it’s safe.

They moved on.

I was still crossing.

This isn’t about feelings.

It’s about unsupervised transfer of risk.

The system stepped back.

My body took the hit.

The movie cuts to black.

I was discharged

into the street.

No crossing guard.

POD 88.

I still don’t feel safe.