Breaking up due to circumstances, and dealing with it.
|I didn’t think about it before I did it. It just felt like something I needed to do. There was still soap in my hair, and the water was barely warm, but I needed to do this. I slowly sat down on the bottom of the tub under the stream of barely pressurized water and pulled me knees to my chest. The water was loud but not overwhelming, just enough to push out the thoughts of doubt, fear, grief and anger that I’m not sure I was entirely aware of before they were removed. All that remained was the feeling of being left behind. No context, no anticipation. I soaked in the feeling as the water soaked into my skin, ran over my eyelids, and began to nudge the soap from my hair. I did not move when I felt the water seep into my eyes, I did not move when the shower got cold, when my fingers pruned, or when the tub began to fill around me. I was entirely consumed with the purest form of sadness; no resolution, no way to vent, only to be dealt with alone, and slowly. I let myself be consumed with that pain, and greeted it as a friend, welcomed it through the gentle pattering of droplets against my head. The streams flowing down my back were the tears I didn’t know how to express. I couldn’t cry to anyone, for fear of transferring this sadness to them, and they did not need it as I did. There was no one to tell, so I sat in the cold tub, under the cold water, and the shower wept for me.|