Becoming, Lucy

I burnt myself in the shower today.
Not by accident.
I got in and turned it up.
Slowly.
Gradually.
It got to the perfect temperature.
Then I asked what if I kept going,
so I did.
When the water touched me next,
I couldn’t feel it.
It was so hot, it was cold.
Numb.
My skin felt fine.
But underneath the surface,
it screamed.
I wondered if it was a metaphor.
For how I live my life.
I know I’m not okay.
I know what’s wrong with me.
Yet I still live this way.
I don’t turn it off, I don’t stop.
I keep going.
Till it’s numb.
Till only the inside hurts.
It screams.

I burnt myself in the shower today.
If I’m in control of my emotions,
why can’t I turn them down?
Why can’t I turn down the dial?
Why can’t I make it stop?
Do I choose to be in pain?
Do I choose to live this way?
Soon the burn will start to show.
Soon the pain inside will start to show.
Make it stop.

I turned down the dial today,
just a little.
It still burned.
But the screaming,
it wasn’t deafening.
I could hear
for just a second.
I could breathe,
for just a second.
It still wasn’t clear.
But it was better.
Just a little.
I had more time.
I had seconds.
To think.
To breathe.
To feel.