I watch the soap bubbles patiently line up, awaiting their turn to swirl down the drain. I feel tears pushing at my eyes in an effort to join them. I’m afraid to cry because I might not stop. But I ask myself why. Why cry? I continue scrubbing So Il off my body. This time I’m not scrubbing off sex. I’m not scouring away the ingestion of drugs. I’m not even washing away a hangover. It’s just pain and brokenness… the natural human emotion of heartbreak.
More hair is falling out that I’ve seen in a while and my fingers are shriveling. Apparently getting rid of heart pain is more difficult than I imagined. Your most precious, cherished friend can’t even look at you… and you’re staring at the remnants of another who is clearly existing as a walking skeleton… and a lifeless corpse lies in the coffin 40 feet across the room…
and somehow you have to continue breathing.
This time I waited too long to see everybody. I thought I was protecting everyone. But it turns out that staying away has never fixed a single problem. in some ways I protected myself. It was easier not to watch people I love fall apart and destroy themselves. I wish I could wash all of their pain down the drain.