Sometimes I feel apart from myself

Sometimes, I zone out from what is going on and my mind plays tricks on me.
I can't hear, I don't move, and my eyes slowly travel.
It only happens for a few seconds, I've timed it, but it feels like it goes on for hours at a time.
When my body thaws, I feel my arms.
I can feel all the scratches. They sting. The more I run my fingers over the open wounds the more they hurt.
But I don't stop.
My feet tingle. I get a sensation to move them, rapidly, but my body won't do it.
I wonder if it's really my feet, or if my heart has fallen to the floor and needs somebody to catch it.
My body won't let me.
I slump my shoulders forward and my head hangs heavily above my neck. My eyes don't focus, but they blur everything in their path.
I reach up to my head, run my fingers through my hair once, slowly, and I stop.
My hand seems so weak.
I think for a second about hitting my face. Hard.
But my hand won't close.
I wonder if it's really my hand, or if it's my fear taking over.
Exasperation in his finest hour.

This is the exact moment when I realize I haven't been breathing.
And that I was sitting on the cold marble bench in the shower.
I realize that the steam is suffocating me and I reach for the door in a hurry.
I slip on the floor beneath me, and I fall.

Breathing becomes problematic.
My feet singe and the little air I've got left is pulled out of my body.
My free fall abruptly ended and I close my eyes in fear of what I know I'll see.

Shiny white granite, level with my eyes.
My dark wet hair lays under me, gracefully lying under my cold face.
My skin has never been so alabaster.

This is when I see it.
The side of my face, suctioned to the floor, is now stained crimson.
Such thick, red, sanguine fluid is coming out of me.
It swirls in the drain, diluted by the showering water.
I watch it. I focus on it. I smell it.
It's a very pungent smell, blood.
at first you pick up the iron
and then when it starts to sting as you breathe,
and you breathe through your mouth
you realize it's running down the back of your throat
and you choke.

Sometimes I feel apart from myself.
Like I'm this sick, demented creature who just imagines my own death.
Sometimes I feel apart from everyone.