Showers.

It's amazing what a steaming hot shower can do for you.

It cleanses you, both physically and mentally, and you can feel the water flowing down your body, taking with it any and all of your problems. At least, for a moment. Like the aching, the brokenness in your chest. The weight of the world. How you haven't eaten today. How your eyes pulse from crying so much for the first time in almost three years. That you keep fucking up over and over. The words he said. How he's not going to try to see you. That, essentially, you're alone. It all disappears while you can't focus on anything but how hot the water that's pounding onto your body is. So hot you think your skin might melt, or you'll pass out, because your legs are tired just like your heart.

And you don't want to die; you don't want to hurt yourself. You just want it all to go away. But, sometimes, before it gets better, the darkness gets bigger. And sometimes, the person you love, the person you'd take a bullet for, is behind the trigger. And maybe they're conflicted, maybe you can see the pain in their eyes, but maybe there's truly nothing there and the "I'm sorry" they murmur as they shoot isn't really sorry at all.

"Fool me once, shame on you." I didn't know any better. I was thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen. So was he. We both hurt each other. I thought the circumstances were unique to our situation, and that's how I was ready to do this again so openly and willingly.
"Fool me twice, shame on me." Now I know. It took an extra time, but I should've been more protective with myself. With my heart. It's broken in now though. It won't be so reckless again.

That's why I love showers. When the water clears your head, you can think openly and freely. You can make decisions and be brutally honest with yourself because hey, it's only you in there. But then you come out and you have to face reality. Maybe I'm ready for it.