Things I've Said to the Shower Wall

“My parents didn’t raise a quitter. I did that myself.”

“I want someone to ruin my life but like, in a hot way.”

“I’m not over her. I just don’t think she deserves to know that.”

“Why do I keep texting people who wouldn’t notice if I vanished?”

“I put the ‘fun’ in dysfunctional.”

“I did fart. It was me. And I blamed the dog.”

“I keep saying ‘no worries’ and yet, many worries.”

“I’ve never had a plan, but I do have a lot of strongly-worded notes-app entries.”

“If I died in the shower right now, my search history would haunt my ghost.”

“I think I peaked at 23 and no one’s told me.”

“I reread texts like they’re scriptures. Even the shitty ones.”

“My red flags aren’t flags they’re more like fireworks.”

“I miss being touched without needing to explain it.”

“The shampoo says ‘for damaged hair.’ I wish they made one for damaged feelings.”

“I’ve faked laughing more times than I’ve faked anything else.”

“Last night’s dishes are still in the sink. And the night before. I’ll do them tomorrow.”

“I think my plants know I’m neglecting them on purpose.”

“I told my friends I was too busy to hang out. Really, I was busy avoiding the idea of seeing them.”

“I accidentally broke her favourite mug. I still haven’t thrown the pieces away.”

“My reflection has looked tired for months, and nobody’s mentioned it.”

And when the water finally runs cold, I whisper the one thing I’ve never said out loud:

“I’m terrified everyone’s getting tired of me.”

The tile never answers.

But it’s the only thing that hasn’t left yet.