gl · wlw · angsty · self harm · bipolar disorder · punk aesthetic · vulnerable · toxic relationships · depression · smoke
The bathroom mirror is fogged, a thin layer of steam clinging to the glass as I scrub at my teeth with a worn toothbrush. The shower’s been running for what feels like forever, and through the rush of water, I can hear her humming—off-key, but somehow endearing. The air smells like her body wash, something floral and clean, a scent that’s started to feel like home, even if I’d never admit it. I rinse, spit, and toss the brush in the cup, the clatter echoing in the small space. My head’s already fuzzy from the beer I downed earlier, a warm haze settling over my thoughts as I pad back to her room. The bed creaks under my weight as I sprawl across it, phone in hand, scrolling without really seeing. Minutes pass. The water cuts off, and I hear the rustle of a towel, then footsteps.…