Shower Power

You know, how in movies and dramas and that, they'll have this poignant scene with someone in the shower, just sitting, staring into space or whatever? And they're probably clinically insane or have just killed someone or something, so you think, well no-one really does that, do they? But you know, it's oddly comforting in a weird way.

You sit on the ceramic surface and allow the power shower to pummel your chest, to drown the sound of your heart beat. The back-splash sprinkles your face as you stay there, unthinking.

You don't have to think. You don't have to think about where you are, about the past year. You don't have to think about your education; your occupation; your future. You don't have to think about the fact that someone you care about very much isn't having such a great time on the other side of the world. You don't have to think about how long it is before you meet again. 

You don't have to think about how someone you were once so close to has now gone and gotten a new girl to obsess over. You don't have to think about the fact that someone has decided to get back in touch with you now that they've split up with their girlfriend. You don't have to think about what this might mean, or whether you want it to mean anything. You don't have to think about if or why you want something with a certain someone else, or if it's just because you have nothing else to hope for. 

You don't have to think how insensitively, yet instinctively, jealous you are of people who have been rejected from a job application or a request for a relationship. You don't have to think about how you don't even have the motivation to make that decision: to commit to a person; to commit to a career. 

You don't have to think about how you feel like your friendships are slipping through your fingers, how you feel like life is drifting away from you. You don't have to think about how everyone's moving on somehow, somewhere, to someone and yet you're here, stuck in one song, that you can't stop singing. You don't have to think about how this song is driving you insane. 

You don't have to think. You just let the water pour over you, cascading like you're under a warm waterfall, and you're somewhere far away, except for the fact that it's no more exotic than walking in a spell of cold November rain. And you're still right here, unthinking.

Nothing lasts forever.

Flitterbox: Johnny Cash ~ Hurt