I was in the shower. It was moving. Well, I thought it was moving. It was just a black speck on the shower curtain.
The thing about your life story is its never just your story. I sincerely hate that part. The other players in the story may not want anyone else to know but then it is either a heart filled with stories (no one can know) or someone else’s feelings could be hurt (why did you tell).
Baby black spiders filled the top of the shower head. It never mattered how many times they were killed. I could spray them and they would always come back.
Thousands of baby spiders.
The spiders aren’t here anymore. I used to be so caught up in bitterness. I was stuck. Have you ever heard about the prison of the mind story where the prison door is open, the chains are undone, and still the person stays. They are free to walk out whenever they please. They stay because their mind tells them too. They can’t see. They are blind to what is around them.
The spiders aren’t here anymore.