Intense Tense

In my shower, in my box of a bathroom, in the morning, in a slightly off balanced state of mind; I shower. The ache behind my eyes has settled into a gentle throbbing tingle, almost pleasant. I watch the drops bouncing off my chest and shoulders and fly past the sunbeam coming through the window, each individual one is splitting its own personal colour spectrum within.
I play with the idea of following one drop's journey. from falling out the shower head, bound together with many others for extra momentum, to dramatically bouncing off my shoulder and breaking away from the others and taking its own flight path, but just before my little hero reaches the sunbeam I close my eyes.

I close my eyes and begin following another path, my own path, that is being paved by the rhythms of those gentle throbs originating from behind my eyes.

Before I knew it I had to choose between other paths. paths being paved by other beats, rhythms, throbs and wails. This wasn't a four way intersection or two paths diverging in a yellow wood. these paths were not numbered, but nevertheless completely based on precise mathematics. Completely based on precise mathematics and at the same time as messy as a high school art teachers ashtray. There was one and infinite, more-or-less and before I knew that, I had already chosen one to go down. I wasn't forced into any decision, not by anyone but myself, even though I was there before I got the chance to make it.
I was making decisions in history while experiencing their consequence. And when tense became too tense I opened my eyes.

I open my eyes in time to catch my little drop hit the sunbeam and split its own personal fantastic colour spectrum before leaving me.
Where did it go? Is it dead? Did it know it was going to split that rainbow? Did it join back together with the other drops? did it know I was watching it? Did it split that rainbow for me? Did it wonder or care? It was just falling wasn't it? Making decisions in history.