A Collection of Thoughts

Won't You Stay?

My shoes stick against the filthy bathroom floor. The echo of life beyond me resonates through these empty stalls. I lock myself in. My very own porcelain cove, a safe haven from the white noise. The seat is cold under my burning, throbbing flesh. All is silent, for I am completely alone. Or at least, I would like to believe I am. Bathroom stalls are sacred for those who seek refuge, I have come to find. Nothing can reach me here. The violent pounding in my chest that was rupturing my lungs, slowly subsides. The chaotic percussion levels to a bearable pace. I can finally breathe again. My ears are inflamed, irritated with the lingering hissing of voices. Their syllables gnawing at the back of my consciousness, reverberating between a fresh memory and the chafed past. The dim lights reveal a version of myself in the metal door before me. Distorted, my features barely distinguishable. But I'm there. It is a hollow figure. I peer into shallowing sockets that spiral deeply into a thinning face. An image of myself that is much kinder than I actually am. At this exact moment, nothing else exists within this isolated fragment of reality. A faucet drips ceaselessly. Each drop drilling into my skull.

                        Drip.
                                   Drip.
                Drop.

The hypnotic tune pushing me further and further into the Sharpie stained metal. As if this flickering effigy is the only thing that holds any sort of tangible meaning. I am entranced.

The longer I stare,

the deeper I sink,

the less likely it is to come back.

"Just stay for a little while longer." It whispers. Its low, cooing tone attempts to sedate me. Soft words are infectious, dangerous even. "Breath, relax. Stay here where it is safe."

"No, I can't keep doing this. I have to be strong. There is no choice but to face the world." But I didn't feel strong. The mere thought of standing causes my legs to quiver. There was no hiding my fear, for it already knew. It was the one that planted it there. In my head. In my heart. Deep within my bones. Caging me in this forsaken bathroom.

"How could you possibly face a world so loud, yet so deaf to its own noise?"

"I have no choice, I can't hide forever."

"Oh, but won't you? Consider all the times you have run and hid thus far. What makes this time any different?" The shrill voice suffocates me. Every syllable coils tighter and tighter around my throat. Soon, my breath will be stolen away from me again. Sometimes, I wonder why I even have lungs.

"This time is different because there are still things that I need to do. Things that I want to do."

"Oh, like what?"

"I have to pick up a few things for a friend. Their birthday is tomorrow. I need to get out of here before the store closes." An image of the convalescent home flashes behind my eyes. She never remembers her birthday. She never remembers me either for that matter. So everyday I come to visit is both a reunion and a celebration. Everyday can be her birthday. So everyday needs to be special. As special as it can be.

"How very sweet. How very thoughtful. If only you could get up."

"But I will. I can. I have done it before, and I'll do it again."

"But each and every time you were on the brink of collapse."

"But I was able to nonetheless." I detach myself from the toilet seat, my skin stinging from the release. My reflection is disrupted, muddled in the sudden motion. The voice dissipates. Syllables merging into the reflective highlights in the metal. I unlatch the lock, and I'm released. The deafening dripping is overwhelmed by a great rush. I slather my hands with soap and plunge them into the steamy water. refuse to look into the mirror because I can only hold onto my courage for so long. But, for whatever amount of bravery I could hold, I wasn't going to let it go. I needed it to carry me through the rest of today. Just today. Just getting through today was all I needed to do.

With the metallic screech of a bathroom door,

I'm free.