Split Mind

The clock reads 10:01 pm. My muscles ache and my eyes are so exhausted that they feel sensitive to the air around me. I turn on the faucet and the warm water wraps itself around me. I close my stinging eyes and shampoo my hair, a frizzy, tangled mess from the wind of a Monday in the gap between summer and fall. I hear the water thrash against the porcelain floor of the shower, first... and then a brash torrent of scolds echo around.

“You disappoint me! Why should you think you’re good enough?!”

I try to concentrate on the water calling out to me.

“Don’t listen. You’re okay. You’re doing the best you can,” it says.

I turn off the faucet and let my dripping feet copy myself onto the shower mat and suddenly, there is a new person amongst me. Then, I wipe the mirror clean and finally, I see my tormentor face to face.