Thursday, Sept. 26, 2019 @ 3:09 am
I lay in bed listening to the rain. It’s 3 am. There is no point in trying for more sleep.
I stand under a hot shower. I watch the skin of my chest flush against the burning water. I glare at the curves of my body: my heavy breasts, the swollen softness of my belly. I turn off the hot faucet and stand still as the cold water shocks across my back. I heave against the cold and begin to cry.
I’m sorry, Russell. I’m sorry. I fucked up.