My arm in the shower looks rain drenched, drip dropping wet and slick. It reminds me of standing in the rain after I came home late, head pounding and thinking the smell of rain, the drenched grass underneath would make me feel more calm. It didn’t. Not for long anyway, I was back to hustling through life almost the second I stepped back inside, drenched and drip dropping wet because my head never stays silent for long.
And now, speaking of silence, I remember a time I left my friends to go pee behind a tree. I did, but then I didn’t go back. Not right away. It was so quiet out there in those woods, the night air cool, drifting only small bits of their conversation and laughter. I wasn’t a part of it back there anymore than I was hidden behind those trees. I went back after a while, head heavy with the sound of silence and the cars moving beyond the trees and the night air all around.
Speaking of loneliness, I remember the first week of university. I cried non-stop that week, crying in bathrooms and hallways and the back rows of class. I cried so much I didn’t cry at all for the next half year, preferring instead to hyperventilate and bury myself in my books. I didn’t actually bury myself of course, or this would be spooky. Instead I learned to cope by standing in the rain and hiding behind trees.
All this I thought in the shower, because I caught a glimpse of what looked like a rain drenched arm and it took me careening down the barrel of my life, a hundred miles a minute, my head refusing to stay silent but at least not hyperventilating anymore.