Winter Just Wasn’t My Season

The sudden urge to write again has struck.

Strangely, my thoughts are all a jumble, and yet so clear when I take a shower. The hot water fogged up the glass of the shower, but not the mirror. And the mirror is on the door to the bathroom, in front of the shower. I stared at my reflection momentarily, but found nothing interesting in my own gaze looking back at me. Streams and streams of thoughts poured down on my body; I could barely stand it. Happy memories, miserable memories – they brought me down to my knees to the floor of the shower. I cradled my head in my hands and leaned toward the glass. I almost wanted the thoughts to stop, but I couldn’t control them. Before I got out of the shower I resolved to turn the hot water off and leave the cold water running. I did it slowly so that the shock of the cold water wouldn’t burn. I stood there for 10 minutes. It was coldest when the water trickled down my face, and down my stomach. I hugged my body for a while until I finally realized there was no purpose to what I was doing. It wasn’t a test of will or anything, and I don’t know why I did it, but I do it often; I go from extremely hot water to cold.

Now that I’ve left the shower all the thoughts that were going through my head are gone and I haven’t the faintest idea what I was recalling. My memory is broken.

This entry was entirely pointless because I can’t write about what I was thinking for those 40 minutes.

I hope it rains tonight.

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