What a terrible day. What a terrible, long, exhausting day. The details of which should not be dwelt upon. I just…feel so drained. I need to unwind, definitely. It's decided then. Huh. Who knew conscious thought could be so hard sometimes.
My brain is quiet for once, my world muted. I'm withdrawn. In myself again. The quiet, safest place for me to be. The small acts of unlocking the door, flicking the light switch, depositing my baggage on the counter are barely registered. To my room. I keep the lights low, adding to my quiet mood. The candles come out next. The more the better. Light from small, flickering illumination seems so much more serene than harsh fluorescents. The glow is soothing.
Now, the key ingredient, the bathtub. Essential to total relaxation. The steam spreads throughout the room, fogging the mirrors, wrapping the air in the pleasant scent of lavender. Now, the sweaty, stinky, bloodstained clothes. Clinging to my body, they seem to hinder my actions, when in truth they're designed to give me the absolute freedom of movement. I need flexible clothes, for my line of work. Now, though, they seem a glaring reminder of what I did tonight, what I do almost every night. But I try not to dwell, the day is done, now I can forget.
Forget that I am different. That I am still alone. That I will always be alone. Relationships are brief and inconsequential. People will always leave you; you will always be alone. That's why I'm so independent, I know the truth of people. Rely on no one but yourself. That's the way to survive. And I do know the rules of survival.
Still, not dwelling…sigh
Clothes, right. Peeling off layer after layer, turning them inside out, trying to cover the smell as much as possible. They come away sticky, from sweat and…blood. Not much, but enough to be noticeable. Still, the relief of their absence from my body is palpable.
Slight groans and grunts accompany the unclasping of tricky bra straps, the removal of a tight tank from over my head, the socks that absolutely refuse to be parted from my feet. Finally, though, it's done. I feel grimy and the bath is calling.
The darkness of my room, accented by the many and varied forms of glowing flames is soothing, calming. It sucks me into it. I turn off the water, silence again reclaiming my abode. Music. Also needed. Turning on the soft sounds of meaningless lyrics zones me out further. Perfect. That's what I need to do; just forget, get lost, tune out the world.
The final step, literally, into the tub. Swirls of bath salts surround my feet and legs as I lower myself into the welcoming embrace of the scalding water. An inadvertent gasp escapes my lips, followed by a deep groan as my body accustoms itself to the water. There. Done. Now, just sit. Sit, and don't think. I can do that.
Another key to survival, learning to not think. If you allow yourself to think too much, you get distracted. Focusing on one thing to the exclusion of your surroundings. Not good. Learned that the hard way.
I don't know if I've ever learned something the easy way. Not sure there is an easy way.
Another cleansing, deep sigh is released, allowing the relaxation to be complete.
Damn. I thought I said no thinking. Why is it then that ever since I got home all I've thought about, tried to not think about was…him.