Kali (Patreon)

“Kali — Bath Water Confessions”

The water is warm against my skin, almost too warm, like it’s trying to pull every hidden thought out of me. I sink a little deeper, letting it rise over my shoulders, letting the steam wrap around me until the rest of the world feels far away.

I tell myself I came here to relax,

to clear my head,

to breathe.

But that isn’t the whole truth.

The moment I look at the ripples around me, I feel it — that pull in my chest, equal parts thrilling and terrifying. I’m not afraid of the bath, or the quiet, or the shadows on the tiles.

I’m afraid of what surfaces in me when I’m finally still.

The excitement hits first, small but sharp, like a spark catching.

A possibility I haven’t dared to name.

A want I’ve kept locked away.

Then the fear follows.

Soft.

Persistent.

A reminder that once I admit something to myself, I can’t take it back.

My fingertips skim the water.

I watch the tiny waves form and disappear.

It mirrors how I feel — on the edge of becoming someone braver, someone more honest, someone who stops pretending she doesn’t care so deeply.

I breathe in the steam, tasting a hint of courage in it.

Maybe that’s why I came here —

not to hide from my confession,

but to make space for it.

Because in this warm, echoing room,

with my heartbeat louder than the water’s hush,

I finally feel close to the truth I’ve been avoiding.

And the truth is…

I’m ready to stop being afraid of my own emotions.

Even if they scare me.

Even if they change me.

I close my eyes and let the heat seep in.

Maybe this is what it feels like to step toward myself —

slowly,

gently,

without running away.