Hiding

Therapy

tick, tick, tick.

the clock passes, a silence filling the room.

my therapist hits a few keys on the keyboard.

i sit there, fidgeting with my hands.

she looks at me, beginning to ask some questions again.

my eyes dart around the room, avoiding eye contact as she stares at me.

"what was the worst part of your week so far?" she asks.

"um,"

i pause for a minute.

"i guess.."

i take a minute, pretending to think.

i blurt something out, something far from the truth.

what i really wanted to say was,

"my relapse"

i glance at the clock, still 40 minutes to go.

the time drags on forever. 

the longer i'm in there, the more my chest tightens.

"Okay, that's all the time we have for this week,"

she finally announces, standing up and leading me out of the office.

only 3 more appointments left, then i'm done.