Friday Fiction

***Too Much***

I am sitting on the floor of the shower. The water falls over my head, my face, down my back in a loving embrace. An all-encompassing, warming, cleansing embrace that meets me where I am and gives me the space to cry tears unseen and unjudged. Tears over nothing. Tears for futility, for uncertainty, for being lost.

  I don’t like being like this. My eyes hurt, my soul hurts, I’m tired, I’m weak. The step up from the shower floor, the uncurling of my arms, my legs, my body. The lifting up of one heavy hand to lean on and push off the cold tile. The heaving of my body to kneeling, to one knee, to propping to my head against the tile in a question of worth. A break. A breath. A moment. Two arms outstretched, upstretched, seeking purchase, finding slickness. One foot, one leg, one thigh muscle – questioning the wisdom of so much investment. Pushing. My hands find the shower head and clasp it, grasp it, hang from it, stealing its strength. My face in the spray, washing away the tears. Holding my breath. Holding my breath. Holding my… gasping. Turning my head, lips breaking open, air sucking in. Hanging. Stealing strength. Stealing resolve. Faking. I let go of the shower head. Gambling. I slide my hands over the tiles to find the taps. And turn them. Slowly off. I lean against the wall. My chest, my stomach, my thighs feeling the harsh cold. I push off. I open my eyes. I step out into the day.