“How do you feel about this?” I have become accustomed to her inquisitive words and studious looks. It no longer puts me in a place of intense discomfort or worry. Now I can simply shrug it off, pull up my steel wall a little further, and answer “I feel fine.” But then I remember that the eyes are rebellious. Before I can snatch them away, the real emotions run and expose everything. Sometimes, if they are really mischievous, they bring water cans with them to pour over the rims of my eyes. We all have those moments of weakness, whether forced or not.  Everyone has an exposed side. She tries to get me to express my feelings by not speaking, but I have played that game before. We sit in an awkward silence with the crunching of the stiff hospital couch as I try to avoid looking in her direction. I try to focus on the smell of lilac Febreze and the vanilla candle that is burning on the table next to me. Finally,I sigh and say “okay, I’m ready now”. She listens as I again revisit my past. After a while, I realize that it is okay to trust people, even my therapist.