I couldn't stop. Everyone around me was hypnotizing; with each passing glance I knew everything about them. Most of the things I observed were dull, such as the man to my immediate right was a avid cycler with an internet porn addiction. I eyed him foolishly. I stared at the girl next to me, bulimic according to the rash on her had from stomach fluids. She caught my eye, "What'choo lookin' at mate?" she accused with a horribly thick accent.
"Oh nothing, I hope the therapy is going well." I said very matter-of-factly, John would have told me this wasn't the best thing to discuss in the open because the girl became severely distressed once I spoke. Oh John I finally got to see him after my absence, the three longest years of my life. I secretly booked an appointment with him; I had changed so John probably wouldn't recognize me. The tremor in my hands wouldn't go away, my stomach reeked of nausea. I was panicking, emotions were strange, and my senses were taking over my body. I didn't like the feeling of emotions, maybe John wouldn't think of me as a machine this time. I took deep breaths trying to calm myself as the queue moved forward. The girl behind me shoved me, I turned around surprised, she scanned me while accusing, "'ow did you know I was in therapy?"
"The rash on your hand indicates you suffer from bulimia, the skin irritates when stomach fluids come in contact with it when you are trying to induce vomiting, you also are very jittery showing anxiety, your breathing is also heavy and you pull at your shirt indicating self consciousness, which is caused by your boyfriend being unfaithful." I turned back around and pulled up my coat collar. I did not need to be bothered by these dull and ordinary people.
After too many tedious moments I reached the front desk, I put on my fake smile and asked the secretary almost too sweetly, "hello my name is Colin Preston, I am here to see John Watson." Oh John, how I've missed you, I didn't even know how he would react, anger, sadness, grief, rage, or happiness? I figured it wouldn't be the latter; it had to be one of the former after what I had done to him.
"Of course sweetheart, go right in." she spoke almost too flirtatiously, recently divorced after having a horrible two year marriage that was started in an elopement to America under intense intoxication, desperate for love, and saw me as a potential mate. I shook my head and walked towards John's office breath quickening with each step closer to seeing my blogger.