The dawn bit into her half of the earth and made a meal of it. The product of this particular feeding filtered in through the window and illuminated the grey-blue smoke signals that lashed out from the burning tobacco roll. Lips, pursed but unturned, blew away cobwebs of thick, white-grey vapor, and she admired the way the cancerous smokescreen spread across the beam and settled in cloudy waves. A rangy wrist moves to hover over the trashcan and flick the stacked ashes away, water dripping from her elbow, back into the full tub that had been losing bubbles by the second.
Her mind was a perpetual game of bumper cars, fleeting thoughts smashing into one another; obscuring her attention in a way only rivaled by the smokescreen in the window?s light. It was a mere defense mechanism to keep her concentration miles away?to keep her transitory considerations from circling the one entity (of a more affectionate nature) that had seemed to continuously be weighing on her cognizance. A thought, that when plucked from her mind and analyzed, would be the source of stomach flipping agony, and eye-batting bliss?a perplexing concoction that would be sure to kill her upon prolonged exposure. And even she, always one for torture, could not stay the agony?so she let her mind wander, so she bathed, so she smoked.
The current of bathwater, though barely existent, kicked up and sprang to life with every movement, every adjustment, and every breath. The nearly spent cigarette was brought by two fingers to waiting lips that sucked away at the last of the nicotine, pulling the smoldering cherry towards the closed canal that led into her oral cavity, and leaving it only millimeters from the filter. With the final drag taken, she stamped away the blazing remainder, killing the heat and reducing it to thick, blackened ash. The injurious cloud was expelled from her lungs and guided off to exist only within the light until its concluding moments of dissipation.
Legs were pulled to her chest, her rear scooted down towards the drain, and the water, hot enough to redden flesh licked and lapped at her spine and belly. Vertebrae stretched and popped as the muscles in her back slowly lowered her into the liquid. Soon, the vivacious element surrounded her?cupping her face and invading the corners of eyes and lips. A deep, polluted breath of air was taken before she gave herself to the rendition of her own, personal sea of troubles. Bubbles clung to her nostrils, as asthmatic lungs made the most of every molecule of what it had?and her eyes opened to look up at the murky surface. Her heartbeat panged in her ears?reminding her of childhood?like footsteps up the stairs. That lone sound coupled with the ambience of ringing auricles were the only resonances that seemed to exist with her itinerant mind.
It was in that moment, staring at the glimmering surface that sparkled like a gelatinous diamond in the presence of the growing dawn that she realized that she did not fear death. There had been a feeble barrier that separated her from oxygen, and she hadn?t thought about crossing it?she had no real desire to cross over and fill her lungs with vaporous, vital air. The hurricane of thoughts was weeded out one by one, and her mind circled around a lone consideration. What if her footsteps never rang out at night again? What if her voice had never again been heard? It was no big secret that her faith in whatever deity may or may not be pulling the puppet strings on the tools of this earth were growing extinct fast. Perhaps it was the thought of non-existence that kept her from fully giving herself away to the waters, or maybe it was something else.
Bubbles left her mouth, racing away to the surface of the water that seemed to be cooling too quickly. Her lungs burned, her chest became alive with anxiety as she fought to keep herself beneath the water. Wide, dull eyes blinked away as a stupefied face existed in tightly pressed lips, a slightly crinkled nose, and twitchy eyes. Maybe it was a punishment given to herself; or maybe she was once again occupying that persistent mind from circling thoughts of the one thing that could truly destroy her faster than anything she could do to herself.
For a split second, she gave into her own mind. Let the cyclone settle on the forbidden, and a bottom lip was taken into teeth and feasted upon. The moment was amazing, it was horrifying, it was painful, and it was agonizingly brief. And then she let go. Her body floated to the top of the water; and she, birthed by the surface, sat up and gasped. Her empty eyes squeezed shut behind a veil of lid and lash, and hid away from the world. If there were tears, they had done a good job at blending in with the wetness that poured from her hair, from her flesh, and eventually settled back into the tub. If there were tears, nobody would know.
Realization struck her like a ton of bricks. There were many revelations but only a few that really counted. The first one was; that nobody truly knew her at all?because she had only just (in that moment) established an understanding of herself. The second revelation was that she was a broken, sad excuse for a person. And the third, (and perhaps most disturbing of the trio) was that there was only one person in this world that made her feel a thing?and she resented them for it. The very thought of them sent a muddle of emotions swirling in her brain, causing an instant chemical imbalance that could bring a grown woman to her knees.
Pulling the plug at the bottom of the tub, and causing a whirlpool of water to be sucked down, she stood and fetched her towel. The rough cotton was dragged along sensitive skin, drying from top to bottom, before being slung over her head. She stepped out, leaving footprint puddles in her wake as she pondered the newfound realizations. Then a fat smile was portrayed among seemingly broken features. It seemed out of place, and yet, beautiful.
A decision had been made--for she could choose to embrace the torturous feelings that ate away at nerves and brain alike, or she could discard them and move through life as a numb husk. Sometimes, the good will outweigh the bad. Other times, the bad will be as thick as the smokescreen in the biting dawn filtered through that window.
And more often than not, it?s just easier to be numb.
Her mind was a perpetual game of bumper cars, fleeting thoughts smashing into one another; obscuring her attention in a way only rivaled by the smokescreen in the window?s light. It was a mere defense mechanism to keep her concentration miles away?to keep her transitory considerations from circling the one entity (of a more affectionate nature) that had seemed to continuously be weighing on her cognizance. A thought, that when plucked from her mind and analyzed, would be the source of stomach flipping agony, and eye-batting bliss?a perplexing concoction that would be sure to kill her upon prolonged exposure. And even she, always one for torture, could not stay the agony?so she let her mind wander, so she bathed, so she smoked.
The current of bathwater, though barely existent, kicked up and sprang to life with every movement, every adjustment, and every breath. The nearly spent cigarette was brought by two fingers to waiting lips that sucked away at the last of the nicotine, pulling the smoldering cherry towards the closed canal that led into her oral cavity, and leaving it only millimeters from the filter. With the final drag taken, she stamped away the blazing remainder, killing the heat and reducing it to thick, blackened ash. The injurious cloud was expelled from her lungs and guided off to exist only within the light until its concluding moments of dissipation.
Legs were pulled to her chest, her rear scooted down towards the drain, and the water, hot enough to redden flesh licked and lapped at her spine and belly. Vertebrae stretched and popped as the muscles in her back slowly lowered her into the liquid. Soon, the vivacious element surrounded her?cupping her face and invading the corners of eyes and lips. A deep, polluted breath of air was taken before she gave herself to the rendition of her own, personal sea of troubles. Bubbles clung to her nostrils, as asthmatic lungs made the most of every molecule of what it had?and her eyes opened to look up at the murky surface. Her heartbeat panged in her ears?reminding her of childhood?like footsteps up the stairs. That lone sound coupled with the ambience of ringing auricles were the only resonances that seemed to exist with her itinerant mind.
It was in that moment, staring at the glimmering surface that sparkled like a gelatinous diamond in the presence of the growing dawn that she realized that she did not fear death. There had been a feeble barrier that separated her from oxygen, and she hadn?t thought about crossing it?she had no real desire to cross over and fill her lungs with vaporous, vital air. The hurricane of thoughts was weeded out one by one, and her mind circled around a lone consideration. What if her footsteps never rang out at night again? What if her voice had never again been heard? It was no big secret that her faith in whatever deity may or may not be pulling the puppet strings on the tools of this earth were growing extinct fast. Perhaps it was the thought of non-existence that kept her from fully giving herself away to the waters, or maybe it was something else.
Bubbles left her mouth, racing away to the surface of the water that seemed to be cooling too quickly. Her lungs burned, her chest became alive with anxiety as she fought to keep herself beneath the water. Wide, dull eyes blinked away as a stupefied face existed in tightly pressed lips, a slightly crinkled nose, and twitchy eyes. Maybe it was a punishment given to herself; or maybe she was once again occupying that persistent mind from circling thoughts of the one thing that could truly destroy her faster than anything she could do to herself.
For a split second, she gave into her own mind. Let the cyclone settle on the forbidden, and a bottom lip was taken into teeth and feasted upon. The moment was amazing, it was horrifying, it was painful, and it was agonizingly brief. And then she let go. Her body floated to the top of the water; and she, birthed by the surface, sat up and gasped. Her empty eyes squeezed shut behind a veil of lid and lash, and hid away from the world. If there were tears, they had done a good job at blending in with the wetness that poured from her hair, from her flesh, and eventually settled back into the tub. If there were tears, nobody would know.
Realization struck her like a ton of bricks. There were many revelations but only a few that really counted. The first one was; that nobody truly knew her at all?because she had only just (in that moment) established an understanding of herself. The second revelation was that she was a broken, sad excuse for a person. And the third, (and perhaps most disturbing of the trio) was that there was only one person in this world that made her feel a thing?and she resented them for it. The very thought of them sent a muddle of emotions swirling in her brain, causing an instant chemical imbalance that could bring a grown woman to her knees.
Pulling the plug at the bottom of the tub, and causing a whirlpool of water to be sucked down, she stood and fetched her towel. The rough cotton was dragged along sensitive skin, drying from top to bottom, before being slung over her head. She stepped out, leaving footprint puddles in her wake as she pondered the newfound realizations. Then a fat smile was portrayed among seemingly broken features. It seemed out of place, and yet, beautiful.
A decision had been made--for she could choose to embrace the torturous feelings that ate away at nerves and brain alike, or she could discard them and move through life as a numb husk. Sometimes, the good will outweigh the bad. Other times, the bad will be as thick as the smokescreen in the biting dawn filtered through that window.
And more often than not, it?s just easier to be numb.