Temptation in the Bathwater — Raveena's Song for the Moments You Stop Pretending
🚿 Stepping In
I had just stepped into the bathtub when the melody began.
The water was still too hot. My skin needed a few seconds to adjust. I lowered myself in slowly, and that's when Raveena's voice seeped through — not intruding, just seeping, spreading like steam through the cracks in the tiles until the entire bathroom was filled with her breathy vocals.
I admit it: this is the only moment of my day when I don't have to play a single role.
💧 The Space Between Water and Sound
The hot water climbed past my collarbones, my ears just above the surface. The faucet hadn't been tightened properly — a drip every few seconds.
That sound merged with the beat of Temptation in a strange and beautiful way. The song's minimalist percussion grew damp, as if someone were striking a distant drum underwater. Raveena's voice floated on the surface. I was submerged below it. A transparent layer sat between us, neither able to touch the other.
That was exactly the distance I needed.
🪞 What the Fog Lets You See
The steam rose. The mirror fogged up, then turned completely into a blurred silver-grey. I couldn't see my own face.
The strange thing is, it was only when I couldn't see myself that I finally dared to look directly at the thoughts I avoid all day.
Like that ambiguous connection I know I shouldn't keep feeding.
Like that habit I know I should refuse.
Like a certain nameless longing — not for a specific person or thing, but for giving in. Giving up the holding on. Giving up the staying sharp. Giving up the tight grip of having everything under control. Letting myself slip a little lower, and then a little lower still, just to see what happens.
Under the water, these thoughts stopped frightening me. They turned light, floating on the surface like soap bubbles. I could examine them one by one, and then decide whether to blow them away or let them stay.
🧘🏽♀️ Seeing, Not Fighting
Raveena kept singing the word temptation into my ear. She didn't condemn it. She didn't glorify it. She simply named it — like a Zen monk quietly repeating a koan.
Submerged there, I suddenly understood this neutrality: Not everything needs to be defeated. Some things only need to be seen.
🛁 The Safest Room in the House
The water began to cool. My fingertips wrinkled. The song had looped more times than I could count, and I had no intention of turning it off.
I just kept lying there — wrapped in water, wrapped in sound, wrapped in my own honesty. The bathroom had become the safest place in the world. Not because the door was locked, but because, in here, I had finally stopped putting myself on trial.
Maybe temptation was never the enemy. It's just the softest version of yourself — the one you're only brave enough to face when you're alone.
© Globluum Original. Please credit when reposting.
