Six hundred and twenty-two

By Vrischika Kotak

i stepped into the shower at two in the morning but i ended up sitting on the bathroom floor and counting the small sage green square tiles covering the walls. it’s a total count of six hundred and twenty-two. i didn't know what else to do. i feel nothing and everything. i feel the world turning but not ending. i feel the sun on my skin but not its warmth. i feel loved but not at all. how long can you miss someone until you stop?

nothing i write makes sense anymore. my words are all i had but i’ve never been more at loss of them. it’s not poetic anymore. i can't turn it (you) into art anymore. all things must come to an end but god i've been struggling to find an end to the way you made me feel - like i was never worth fighting for, like i never meant anything to you, like i was nothing.

i tried to be good enough, i did, i tried and tried and tried but i get it, i made a mistake, i had one drink and i said the wrong things so it’s probably for the best, isn't it? but tell me, what did i say that was so wrong for you to break my heart over and over again? you ask me to stay and do nothing about it.

i am not angry with you, i have no right to be but i am a little tired. honestly, is it really that inconsiderate of me to feel this way? is it really so easy for you to pretend like nothing happened? like you didn't make a choice and treat me like an option? it’s the fact that you knew exactly how i felt and you still didn't care. is it so wrong of me to ask you to be a little more present now?

i stepped into the shower at two in the morning but i ended up sitting on the bathroom floor and counting the small sage green square tiles covering the walls. it’s a total count of six hundred and twenty-two. that’s six hundred and twenty- two times less i’ve thought about you and six hundred and twenty two times more than you’ve fought for us.

By Vrischika Kotak