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i stood sobbing in the shower, my heart dying in a shroud of steam, wanting to wash the pain and anger from my body, and thinking about how much of my life and my hopes of the last year have just become a waste.

my tears stung hot against my cheeks, even compared to the wet stream from above, even though the faucet was turned all the way to "h". i sobbed thick and loud and alone in the shower and beat my fists and palms against the dingy tiles, trying to find some sense of hope or control from the dull echoing thuds, barely audible behind the flow of the shower and my own tears. i hoped to seek an answer in those sounds, but there was nothing.

i shouted "dammit!" and pulled at my stringy, curling hair, tried to numb myself my scrubbing at my skin until it was red and raw.i picked up my gillete razor, suction-cupped to the shower wall -- considered it -- and placed it back. enough had already died today. my belief in true love, images of an apartment and dinner theatre in seattle, some children i've never met and never will, my trust, dreams of travel and warmth, my optimism and faith.

all of that, like the dirt and sweat and oils and salt running off my body and swirling down the drain, is only waste.