Letting Go of the Noise

The shower doesn’t help.

I stay under the hot spray until my fingers wrinkle, until the smell of chili and french fries is long gone. My skin is pink from the hot water, but my nerves are still on fire. My heart hasn’t stopped hammering in my chest, regardless of how much I try to calm my breathing.

The shame won’t rinse off. The cruel words still echo loud in my ears.

Whore. Slut. Desperate.

I