I hit the bathtub in these dying moments of depression only to find the stillness brings on more anxiety. Keep moving, keep moving my brain signals. Standing up, I turn the knob to the shower position, bow my head, and listen to thoughts that I feel are not mine.
Hot water pours over my face, across my bent shoulders, and down my aching back until this moment concludes as always with tears. Tears run down my face and drip from my chin to be lost within the drops of hot water pouring from above. I keep listening to unspoken thoughts that I am unable to picture in a tangible form. Sinking lower in the fluidity of emotion, I come to believe life is like the hot water disappearing down the drain to return recycled elsewhere.
The emptiness in my being, numb flesh, and my shallow breath these are the things I know for certain. Under the weight of the water in the darkness that I cannot abate, I surrender once again to the unknown, thinking, I’ve got to get out of here.