Existing is not Living.

in poetry •  7 years ago  (edited)

And so she sat in her bathroom.
Resting her body against the bathtub after taking a shower.
But it wasn't just a shower,
it was THE shower.

This was the last day.

There was no going back and the day was already half over.

With a towel on her hair and sitting next to a mirror,
but she didn't have to look at herself.

Looking up not even knowing what to think next.
Feeling the tears running down all over her body.

Every single item in the bathroom was dead.

Nothing was moving besides her belly as she breathed,
slowly.
A playlist shouting music from her phone,
she could still hear people talking outside.

Being alone wasn't an option.

She hasn't been able to be alone for a long time now.
Not even at night.

Only waiting for the next weeks to come,
knowing she couldn't run away.
There was no escape.

She has to face this.
Lonely,
without being able to be alone.

If she's gonna feel lonely she should at least have the privilege of being alone.
Don't you think?

Questioning the universe was starting to become even more pointless every day.
She still had everything (if we don't count what she's lost).

But this isn't about her anyways.

This affected a whole amount of different souls.
This was just her perspective of things.
It's what she was perceiving,
and the way she was perceiving it through feelings and the way her mind was structured.

It was very tiring wanting to give up but knowing she couldn't.
That's why she took a few minutes after the shower to sit.

Alone.

But she couldn't stay in the bathroom forever.
There were stuff she had to do.

Pointless day-life things she was supposed to do to please other people.
So she stood up,
grabbed her pile of dirty clothes laying on the corner,
and went outside.

Continuing with this nightmare,
without being able to say a thing.

-Andrea Carrascosa

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