A regular day

Gettng dressed, heads outside. Weather could be just as it is now, or completely different. You don't observe and you don't care. Focus is inwards as each foot is bringing you one step closer to her.
Shivering on the bus isn't because it's cold. Excitement? Afraid? Relief? I don't know. You sit and watch everybody else that passes by. Staring, with head locked in one direction and hoping noone you know enters the bus.

A deep breath after exiting the bus. There's no way back. Some on the same bus might even head your way. Meeting a person walking the other side is highly likely. You might see the same person at the same place every week. It's almost as if you know each other. No need for words, gazing eyes speak louder than words. Then he or she is gone. Thoughts start to spin. Muscles twitching snaps you back to reality. Each session is different yet very much the same. An internal struggle between deamons and logic will take place with only one winner.

Stepping inside, hearing your own footsteps, proving your existence. Yet you still find it difficult to believe. Mind feels sedated. doubting every desicion. One step closer. One more. Waiting room feels like a safe haven. Sitting down on the sofa, finding a magazine to pretend reading, Only thing in your head is all the other people waiting. Feeling their eyes as they judge you, mocking you for what happened yesterday, last week or five years ago. It doesn't matter. You blew it and you know it. A familiar voice says your name, it's now or never.

Clothes are hanged on the coatrack. She invites you to sit down in the chair you've spent countless hours. Visual and audible impressions remind you of last time. Usual chit-chat and summary of last week. Nervous and scared. Wanting to bring up a topic and actually saying it are two different things. No return once the sentence is under way. Shivering and stomach ache returns while the impression of exposing your soul. My own thoughts? How does one know what to think when you don't believe what you're thinking?

Clock is ticking. 45 minutes later and you've gone through the entire spectre of feelings. It's over for this week and you're reliefed at the same time as you want to go on. Same day, same time? A quick look at the people waiting for their turn. There's nothing you can do. Sometimes it's easier to not care. Walking back to the bus for the ride home. Waiting for the night to fall and time to sleep. That's how it often went.