Connections

I bring my phone with me as I open the bathroom door. Everything is as bare as they can get. I turn on the music. Yes. I need something heavy but happy. I want to let go. My ears gets flooded with lively hiccups of melody. I start taking off my clothes and close my eyes. I’m sorry my friend but I’m thinking again. I never stopped doing so and probably never will. I step in the shower stall and turned the faucet on. I’m filthy. My body, no, my entire being disgusts me. I wish the hot water would just wash everything off me and dissolve my mind along with it. If only I could just melt, right now, and disappear forever. Oh, that’d be most blissful. I look at my hands and I remember my friend again. This hand, which for years have been frozen is chipped. She has somehow melted a part of it. I fear that the crevice on the layer of ice that has formed would later on creep its way all over my body and destroy it altogether. I cannot let it happen. I’d be vulnerable. I don’t want to feel pain again. No. This is exactly what I’ve been fearing. This is precisely why I’ve completely shut myself down from that familiar warmth. I crouch down on the floor, as my eyes trace the tile grouts like tiny spoons slowly picking up my thoughts. Funny. Why is it that I remember wanting that warmth, yearning for that tiniest feeling of solace and calmness? Why do I feel drawn to experience more of that touch to the point that it was okay that I get chipped. Is it really worth the trouble? I’ve spent more than ten years building this fortress all over my skin, making sure that every bond is intact. Nothing was supposed to get through it and nothing from inside was supposed to leave as well. Now, I’m leaking. I grin as I tried to stand up. My body cringes as though it was trying to patch up the growing cracks on it. Ha! I see. So this is what I want? After all those nights of self-loathing, constraining, and shutting down of all my feelings so that I’d be invincible? Do I really wish to be destroyed once again? If I do let that happen, how will I sustain that destruction? After all, it is not the war that I’m afraid of. It is the aftermath, the rebuilding of the icy wall that I fear for. I don’t want to wake up and feel it. I don’t want to see the closure. If I do let myself be destroyed by this creeping need, I should make sure that it destroys me completely, or at the very least, be prepared to completely shut myself down once again.
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