Musings of an odd Art History student.

There’s always something about feeling squeaky clean after taking an absurdly hot shower. You feel a bit like you’ve been scalded and your head’s a bit fuzzy, yet at the same time you could never feel more clean… But at the same time the shower has always been that place for me where my hidden flaws are revealed. It was the place where I hid when things got worse, something about the white of the tub to the stark whiteness of the tiles made me feel sterile. Not safe- but almost as if the white on white could clean up my emotions in a way that the water was doing to my body. The shower was also the place where I would inflict pain. With harsh words and other such things. There was nobody around to judge this internal hate. Nobody to combat these negative demons that talked you further and further down your rabbit hole. So they would continue to flow, and the white of the walls and the cleansing nature of water would make them disappear, at least for the moment. 

There is also the moment after your shower, when you are attacked by seemingly freezing tempetures and a fogged up mirror. I used to absolutely hate the way that I looked post-shower. With my hair plastered to my face and my body taken away from it’s protective dress. There is no make up, no fancy cloths. Just a short, pale girl who’s skin becomes rosy red after her shower.

But I have to say… while I used to hate that, I’ve become accustomed to it. I don’t mind it as much anymore. 

And there I am, away from the water and the steam. All rosy and red with a robe around myself. And it’s nice :3

Posted 1 year ago with 5 notes
Tagged with #Words #Personal