When I am ready | Dreamnotfound

Turn around

TW: little mentions of blood and small cuts (an accident)

I pay-palled the money to the taxi driver through blurry eyes and slammed the door shut. I proceeded to walk straight to my bedroom and took my shoes off.

It was surprisingly quiet in the house, so I guessed they were all asleep already.

Maybe a shower will do me some good, I thought and headed for my bathroom with heavy feet. I got undressed and tossed my clothes in a pile on the floor and I stepped into the shower, turning it on.

The warm water felt nice against my bare skin which helped me relax. Showers really do hit different at 3am.

Today has been a living rollercoaster.

Every moment and detail from the club re played in my mind as I struggled to wash my hair.

Unfocused eyes meeting. Lips crashing against each other. Tight gripping on thighs and waists, drawing each other closer.

Stop.

Stop. Stop. Stop.. please.

I slid my hands down my face, feeling absolutely exhausted, —both mentally and physically. My mind —a never ending storm giving me a headache, —my body —tense in every place possible.

By the time I was done, steam covered the glass divider of the shower. I put a pale finger against the glass and slowly drew two dots and a long curved line. The Dream smile. But I then wiped it away with my palm feeling stupid for doing that.

After a while, I hesitantly turned the shower off and got out to dry myself and put on my-go-to t-shirt with a pair of grey sweatpants.

I reached for the hair comb to untangle the knots in my hair, gliding it through the dark locks. While doing so, I took a proper look at myself in the mirror.

My reflection was unrecognisable. All I could see was an empty shell of a man. My eyes looked gloomy, bags apparent underneath. I unintentionally pouted creating a crease on the top of my chin, making me realise my facial hair has also started to grow back out. Great.

Remembering that my razor was in one of the drawers, sent me searching for them, which I then grabbed and began shaving away the stubble. There wasn't too much, so that made it easier. I just wanted to feel like myself again.

Once I got all of it, I rinsed the sharp razor under the running water of the sink. But all of a sudden I felt a sharp pain in my fingers, making them throb.

Ouch- Fuck.

By accident I had managed to cut the tips of my fingers on the slim blades. Blood was dripping from my hand into the sink. It stings so bad.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Shaving while I'm not in the right mindset was a bad idea. Why didn't anyone tell me this?

I felt sick in the stomach at the sight I had created. So, so sick.

That was all it took. That was all it took, before I completely broke down, sending me over the edge. My back slid slowly down the cold tiled wall. After holding in my emotions for what felt like an eternity I finally let it all out.

On the floor, yet again, in the huge bathroom I cried. I cried and I cried, not caring about the fact that I had blood all over my shirt or that someone might hear me.

My ears pounded loudly, whilst my eyes grew hot. The tears rolled down my cheeks so quickly, that it was impossible to wipe them away even if I tried to.