Every night, I cry in the shower…
I cry for myself, I cry for my future, which sometimes seems so bright, then so bleak. I cry for the friends I used to have and for the few that only appear when something fun comes up. I cry for the wedding I won’t have — the white dress, flowers, and diamonds. A three-tier cake and all the wine I can guzzle. I cry when I practice my Academy Award speech because some people still think this is a child’s dream when it’s absolutely all I have ever wanted and its 190 pages away. I cry when I doubt myself because I feel like something inside of me won’t let me truly be happy, even though I know I deserve happiness.

Every night, I cry in the shower…
I cry because I know what people say about me behind my back. I know how socially awkward I come across, how distant and stoic I am, how aloof I seem. I cry because I know I’m aging out of the life I’m in and aging into a life that doesn’t know or accept me. I cry because I know I’ve avoided adulthood for too long. Now the chickens are coming home to roost and I can’t manage. I cry for all the things I could have been and all the things I’ll never be.

I cry for the lost love, the relationships I could have had, the love I could have made, had I not been so uptight, so frigid, so… full of crap. All I want is to love and be loved, but all I do is avoid, run, ignore. Put the phone on “Do Not Disturb”. Lie about my plans. Nah girl, I got something else to do — Netflix, Sour Patch Kids and my water therapy.

That’s when the mean talking starts. There are people dying and I’m crying about something I did or didn’t do, some dream I gave up on, some goal I missed. I go off on myself and say, “Take some responsibility and quit feeling sorry for yourself. Get out of the shower and write something, go run, drink some water. Stop being pathetic.”

There is a beautiful bright side to this. When I get out of the shower and feel 100 times better, when I feel refreshed and revitalized, energized and prepared to do anything. I want to send in those articles, finish that script, take a meeting, be productive, work hard, be an inspiration. Times when I get out of the shower and feel good about myself. But when I’m crying in the shower…there isn’t the time to talk about those times.

I know I’m blessed but simultaneously, I can’t help but feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I don’t have to always be happy. Eventually I’ve gotten addicted to pain and reliving my traumatic, disappointing and emotionally trying times. When I cry in the shower, its like a Vine, just replaying itself into oblivion. It’s ridiculous. It’s therapeutic. It’s redundant, but necessary.

I’m taking baths from now on.

Kyira
Pitched Entry