Her mind is flooded with thoughts, doubts and fears, anxious and restless, feeling as if she is leaning over the edge of a cliff, barely hanging on, as she sits down, making herself write a letter addressed to her, needing a release, hoping that it might change something. That it might make her feel better.
She’s had enough, drowning in life and people in it. She feels as if she has no one to share her thoughts with, nowhere to turn to. She knows that anyone she loves and would normally confide in would be insulted and hurt by the words that are threatening to come out of her mouth.
Yet resentment towards life is pushing her towards melancholy and frustration. She resents people around her and yet talking about it, acknowledging it all, will make it worse, will make her feel even more guilty. It will add to the overwhelmingly intensity of the turmoil waging war inside her. So she suffers in silence, while bits of her heart chip away with every second.
She knows she should voice what’s going on in her mind. She should let them all know but she is certain that putting it on someone else will make her feel worse. Opening her mouth, making her agony heard, will backfire and the load will become unbearable.
So she steps away from the desk, leaving the pen next to her not even started letter, and goes into the shower, turning up the music, letting hot water run over her body as she lets all her emotions and thoughts out in a sob that makes her body shake and her heart break, as air leaves her lungs.
Hot water turns to cold and she steps out of the bathroom, starts over and faces the same world and people in it, the pressure released for the time being, but threatening to come back soon.