I feel more myself in bathrooms

Than anywhere else I can imagine

Everything flows comfortably:

The tears,

The urine,

The occasional vomit.

I don’t have to be anyone but myself in bathrooms

No expectations,

No demands,

Just solitude,



I find

There is something so cathartic about sitting

Bare bummed

In a squat position

Or even just standing

Completely clothed

In front of the mirror

Confronting yourself

As you stare into your own eyes

Peering into your windows

Clearly seeing all the inner turmoil

Unrest and dismay

You have, thus far, skillfully avoided


But in bathrooms

I find

That the truth

You’ve spent so long masking

Makes its way to the forefront


So after you carefully put yourself back together again

After all the ways life has torn you apart

You smile

Through tear stained lips


For when people ask you how you are.