The Tub

 The Tub 

I was once 5 years old. I laid in a half full bathtub, holding my head just above the water and my toes just barely reaching the other side of the tub. I probably had Barbies, bubbles, toys, and soap that smelled like watermelon. 

I was once 13 years old. I laid in a bathtub where I no longer fit. My legs folded and my knees reached far above the water. My head could now lay on the bottom with out my face going under. I contemplate strange things like death, depression, and guilt.

I am 17 years old. I lay in a bathtub on a Wednesday night. Although I left the bathtub half empty, the lukewarm water rises as I sink, much like how tears well to my eyes as I begin to overthink. Overthink the way she gives advice to me. Overthink the way that the shower head threatens to drown me if flipped on. The way my shampoo smells awful. The way someone is yelling that they have to pee outside the door. The way I am drowning in everything I cannot handle. I don't handle things very well. And that brings me back to my eyes filled with tears. I must look so pitiful. What would 5 year old me think? Same body, just bigger. Same mind, just wiser. Same tub, just with cold water because my sister used all the hot. Silly me and my silly mind. Silly me wasting my time. Over and over. Every waking second of my day I think, over and over. I made her cry. I didn't mean to. She made me cry first. I just want her to be proud of me. I was probably 13 the last time she told me that she was. I was so scared to declare my major because it's what she does. I always feel like I'm competing with everyone because mentally I am. I'm so disconnected with myself and others that I simply don't feel anything. Like remorse for making my mother cry. Or even sadness as I cry myself. 

My eyes just burn from the soap. That's all.

-ava