​Mistake

It’s okay.

That’s what I kept telling myself, each moment of the day.

It’s okay.

I finished my work, and did it ahead of time. My absence would be missed, but I set them up to excel. I made them ready for my absence.

It’s okay.

I went home after work, screened through the notifications. Nothing important.

It’s okay.

I have paid my rent for this month. I paid my utilities. I have made no plans.

It’s okay.

There are no more chits on my time. I have no more expectations. I have done everything I promised to do. I can be held against nothing.

It’s okay.

In my modest home, I run the bath. Warm, almost hot. Comforting.

It’s okay.

I close my laptop. I silence my phone. I pull the phone line from the wall.

It’s okay.

I undress. I see myself in the mirror. I hate it. But one last time, I face myself. Hideous.

It’s okay.

I edge myself into the bath. The warm water washes over me, enveloping me. I feel the embrace of its heat.

It’s okay.

I lay there. Silence. I thought about music, but this moment is beyond rhythm. Beyond beat. Beyond sound. Silence is best.

It’s okay.

I simmer and soak for a time. Become comfortable. I think about everything. My future, my past, my now. I could change. My past doesn’t define me. I could become better. Do something worthwhile. I could make something, or help someone, or provide a use. I’m not limited. There are no limits. I can be everything.

It’s okay.

I picked up the item. Just a small thing. I read the soaps on the rack. “Sage and Midnight.” “Sunshine and Coconut.” I loved those scents.

It’s okay.

I pull the item as it should be used.

It’s okay.

The water turns a delightful pink, in washes, in blooms, in waves. How pretty.

It’s okay.

I watch the color bloom and spread. It’s really quite pretty. Just for fun, I splice my arm up through the water, spreading the color and splashing my face. I giggle as it passes.

It’s okay.

I’m getting tired now. I imagine a clock in my head running out.

It’s okay.

What next? Where do I go next? A pervasive thought.

Nothing.

I see no tunnel, no light, no welcome waves of grain.

It’s…okay.

I think. It’s harder now, but I think. No, don’t think it.

Mistake?

My breath is fast now. I haul myself from the tub, making an awful mess.

It’s not okay.

I won’t be after this. Everything I have ever been won’t be anymore.

This is not okay.

I won’t remember the time he and I played on the swings. I won’t remember her kiss on my cheek. I won’t remember his warmth as he wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders.

This is not okay.

I made a mistake.

I thought there was calm and peace waiting for me.

But it’s absence. I can feel what I am slipping now.

This is not okay

I try to clutch those happy memories. I feel myself slipping through my wrists, my fingers. I thought it would be more.

But it’s empty.

I look at the mirror, and see myself. Small, diminishing, empty. Void. My last bits dripping out.

It’s not okay.

I made a mistake.