i was staring at the shower drain like i was waiting for it to say something to me, to finish it’s train of thought. like it had trailed off in the middle of a crucial sentence, in the middle of something terribly significant. i needed to know what else it had to say to me.

but it remained unspeaking. it began to feel as if i, myself, was within the water that was spiraling down this drain. like i was as fluid as the liquid, like i was melting down and down and down. the lights were off in the bathroom, aside from a dark purple nightlight. i could barely see my conversation partner as it continued to stare at me without words.

i was tracing the drain with a finger, a disturbingly intimate motion, like i was trying to get it to speak by method of tibetan singing bowl. the metal indistinguishable from the temperature of the water, the texture all essentially the same.

i laid my head next to it, legs curled into my chest, water pooling around both our faces. both of us silent, feeling like a couple that was quietly trying to resolve an argument.

i’ve never handled arguments well. i know it isn’t always my fault, but it feels like things are easier for everyone else if i make it that way. i can’t force someone else to apologize when i know they’re never going to, so i might as well do it myself.

i whisper to the drain, my lips barely moving, that i am sorry. i am sorry for how overbearing i have been as of late. conversations are so hard for me, i just don’t know how to handle it when they’re over. i like it when things have closure, but if you don’t want to give that to me, then i’m sorry i pushed you out of your comfort zone. really, i shouldn’t even be assuming i know how conversations work, it’s not like i was raised having many of them, and at this stage in my life it’s probably too late to figure it out. there’s a lot of things i’m still figuring out, and you’ve really done nothing wrong. no, don’t speak, it isn’t your fault, it’s mine. trust me, i’ll be better in the future. i’ll learn how to do this right.

the drain’s silence shifts to that of judgement. i’ve evaded blame by blaming myself too much. i wish i was the water, and not the boy lying in it. i wish i was the drain, and not the boy talking to it.

i turn my face down against the tub and let the water into my lungs for a moment. this is an act of sacrifice, but no one is asking me to sacrifice anything. i feel a level removed from reality. not away from it entirely, but barely in touch like we used to be. reality and i, we used to talk so much more back when i couldn’t see her flaws. i think she’s still trying to reach me, but we just don’t click the way we used to.

if i fell asleep right now, it might make things make more sense. i’ve always just been tired, more than anything. that’s really all it is.