As Needed

Before I walk through those glass doors,
I rub my hands across my scruffy face,
Run my fingers through my tangled hair,
Place my dark-tinted sunglasses over my eyes.
All this pressure and preparation of trying to hide myself from being noticed.
Sit among all these strangers that I repeatedly see each time I visit.
Hear my name called, walk back, and sit on her couch as she begins her interview.
I feel like I should be on the cover of a magazine with all this attention I get.
I hate feeling like a celebrity in my therapist’s office.