Drip

Tonight I am laying in the bath, water filled to the brim on the brink of overflowing. It's funny how when we're little, we imagine we are mermaids or sharks when we are in the porcelain walls. But as we get older, as we experience life, we think of drowning. We think of water as a killing tool. A murder weapon if you will. Every drip that comes out of the copper faucet reminds me of every mistake I've managed to make.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

I lay back as the water rises higher and higher as time passes. I take a gasp of air, hold my breath, plunge down into the almost cold water, and open my eyes. I lie there, numb and lifeless. I have no soul left in my body. I can't feel anything. And at that point and time, I don't think I want to anymore.