Baths are underrated 

I can hear each breath exit my mouth. The sound of water droplets from the faucet smacking the surface of the water both annoys and relaxes me at the same time. Warmth envelops every part of me, and I can feel my face turn red. I’m the type of crazy person who writes this over their bath water with an unprotected phone just to be authentic. 

As I stare at the walls of my bath I can’t believe the layers and layers of water spots. It’s amazing how important this stuff that makes us wet is. The spots all blur together, so no one would know who was there first. I don’t have the strength to sit here and prune like I used to. The heat puts pressure on my brain until the peace leaves my being. I just want to be sane. 

I’m not the most beautiful waterfall. Sometimes I don’t feel like I’m much more of an impact than the splash that’s ringing in my ears from this leaky faucet. 

Everyone’s special they say. Maybe I never will be. Maybe that’s okay. At least I can say I’m not special in such an original way.


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