I feel more myself in bathrooms
Than anywhere else I can imagine
Everything flows comfortably:
The tears,
The urine,
The occasional vomit.
I don’t have to be anyone but myself in bathrooms
No expectations,
No demands,
Just solitude,
Bliss.
I find
There is something so cathartic about sitting
Bare bummed
In a squat position
Or even just standing
Completely clothed
In front of the mirror
Confronting yourself
As you stare into your own eyes
Peering into your windows
Clearly seeing all the inner turmoil
Unrest and dismay
You have, thus far, skillfully avoided
But in bathrooms
I find
That the truth
You’ve spent so long masking
Makes its way to the forefront
So after you carefully put yourself back together again
After all the ways life has torn you apart
You smile
Through tear stained lips
Practising
For when people ask you how you are.