I’m standing in a walk-in shower with the water on,

just begging every droplet of water to get hotter

and sear the trauma off of my fragile, porcelain skin.

It doesn’t, though.

I stare through the curtain of water and steam that’s filling the room,

but my focus isn’t on anything in particular.

Instead I’m lost in my head, in thoughts I’d rather not have.

The thoughts consume me.

I stand there until the water turns cold and shocks me back to reality,

shut the water off, but I don’t reach for my towel.

I lean back against the cool tiled wall and slide down to the floor,

sit there and bring my knees to my chest.

It feels like hours before I get up, get dressed, put a false smile on my face.

The reflection in the mirror is perfection at its best,

but that’s not how I feel on the inside.

I am such a fraud.

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