It’s one of those [I hate the world] days

I’m sitting in the bathtub and eventually when the water is high enough, I lie down in the water with my feet towards the drain, Frida-esque.


[What the water gave me – 1938 Frida Kahlo]

Perhaps Frida managed to see all that in the water a.k.a her life in the water. I, however, part simpleton and part drained from a long day saw this:


[What Frida Taught me – Heather Horton]

But with shorter, fatter thighs and calves plus wide feet. Don’t hate because I actually don’t mind that part of my body. I’m completely okay with it and have been this way since maybe birth. That’s water for you. Or maybe life.

I don’t see anything and perhaps things are looking rather bleak and colorless. But then, that’s just quite literally what I see.

Suite No. 5 in C Minor by Bach about sums up how I feel. It’s a wistful song on the cello that goes up and down the minor scales with the melody soaring up a bit before it dips down into low notes.

I let the water down the drain and saw my body sort of sink into the bottom of the tub as I continue to lay until all the water drained. I guess I have more to think about death than life, and right now isn’t the happiest of times in my life but isn’t the worst.

By many standards, I should be very satisfied. To start with, that my college bathroom has a bathtub, for goodness’ sake. Fancy schmancy private school with a killer tuition my folks are paying for with no complaints though it costs the price of an extremely nice car to attend yearly (though I’m on financial aid) and by the time I graduate, my folks could have had four extremely nice cars. The only condition they put is that I do well in my studies and remind me to be healthy every now and then. My body has been weak since last year when I started my first year; I’ve caught just about everything going round and been working many jobs plus getting more and more work from unrelenting Professors.

People have been reminding me to take care of myself, though and last Spring since my depression set in again, I haven’t been the most conscientious of my health. A friend of mine passed away a bit more than a month ago, so now isn’t my best time exactly. But life goes on and I know how precious life and people are. I don’t need a bathtub to tell me that.

When the water drains with my body lying still in the tub, I’m thinking about how precious life is and how everything can pass away right before your eyes at an age as young as 17 – the age of my friend who had yet to experience going to college, a romantic relationship, get his first job, get married to the man he would fall in love with (now that prop 8 is overturned again) and grow old. I always was told how precious life was but never knew for myself until I experienced loss. 

That’s what the bathtub gave me today.


About Classyasfemme

"Those of us with the power to speak must speak" -Staceyann Chin College student doing some reflecting and soul-searching. Will occasionally write about the immigrant diaspora, sexuality, religion, social justice, loss, and offer advice. Most of the time it will be scrambling for answers to questions I don't know the answers to. I write as a way to express what otherwise might be forgotten in passing. I write to heal, I write to forgive, and I write for equality. Thanks for reading about bits and bobs of my little life. Keep on smiling. Profile picture is a series of body art photos done by Chinese artist Huang Yan by the way. Feel free to look him up if you're curious. View all posts by Classyasfemme

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