Boy Meets Boy
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deviantart
I so badly want to be good enough
that I don’t realize that
I am good enough.
The acrylic is against my bare skin. A draft raises goosebumps all over it.
A deathly silence lingers in the air. It is disrupted with the turn of a knob.
Water falls onto my feet, runs over my bottom; rising slowly.
Head tilted back, I stare at the ceiling. A single light bulb; it looks like it will blow out tonight.
The paint is chipped, revealing patches of concrete where a coat of white used to be.
Strangely, these inanimate objects reminded me of myself.
I hear the water spilling onto the ceramic tiles now. I shut my eyes.
“It will be easy and it will be quick.”
I slip my head beneath the surface of the water.
A minute—maybe two probably passed when I opened my mouth.
I feel the cells in my lungs rupture as it is slowly being filled.
My throat starts to constrict, my stomach starts to bloat.
Unconsciousness looms.
I know it. I am almost there; but I cannot do it.
I push my head out of the water, desperately gasping for life.
I just cannot.
Shrouded by darkness. ”Where am I?”
The slight rustle of leaves. The smell of earth.
The dampness of the surrounding air. I stumble in the dark.
Fearful. Lonely.
Eyes strained. The silhouette of a man.
I scamper towards it, only to watch it fade into the blackness. A desire to not be alone.
Another. I race forward.
Nothing there. Yet another.
Nothing. Irregular breathing.
Desperation. I know; I have lost myself.
I feel
that I have
finally grown
to be
comfortable
in my
own skin.
I no longer try to be
somebody
else.
