I know why I’m crying.

Monday, June 9, 2014

Whenever I cry, there’s almost always a seed, followed by a sprout. Some frustration boils up and germinates a tightness in my chest and an ache behind my sinuses. I expect tears. I can smash the bud, destroy the thought, do something else. Some of my sorrows even require careful rumination before I can properly cry just for the sake of catharsis. I do not typically just find myself crying instantly.

We all have shit, big and small, that we carry around with us every day. Some things remind us of the load, but who cares, we’re carrying it whether we remember it or not. I know what triggered this episode: I was doing something totally innocuous, attempted to express myself properly, and suddenly I was thrown back into the first and only moment in my life where I instantly started sobbing. I felt the pain afresh, except without any of the shock. It’s old news.

I don’t understand why I can feel content, safe and warm on one summer afternoon and then devastated the next. How dreams die, always die, ALWAYS DIE, without explanation or justification. I don’t understand why it has always taken me such a long time to get over anything. Or accomplish anything.

Today I told myself that my car cannot be my crying spot. I drove 45 minutes home, walked upstairs to my room, changed into pajamas, sat down, and only then did I allow myself to cry.