I cried before I fell asleep last night.
I cried twice this morning.
I cried riding my bike to work.
I am crying reading a piece in the Doris zine while at front desk.
It's only two o'clock in the afternoon and I have been on the verge of breaking out in tears at any given point.
As difficult as it might be to believe, I cry easily and I cry a lot. I do it so much, yet I've never really stopped and thought to myself, "hey, I'm a crier." Maybe that was one way for me to distance myself from and to deny emotions that already feel too close and too hard.
Some people say crying makes you feel better afterwards. I don't know if I've experienced that these past two weeks. Sure, I've cried and felt better before, but it feels different this time around. I think it's because I spend so much of time crying time alone. When I cry in front of co-workers at the bookstore, I feel a bit better afterwards, probably mainly due to them doling out encouraging, caring and positive words.
But when I cry alone, it feels like absolute shit. I don't know if I feel any better afterwards. I don't think I do. Having to be by myself and hear myself cry seems and feels so awful and pathetic. I have to the be one to brush off my tears. I have to be the one to pick myself off of my bed to go to the bathroom to clean my face. I have to be the one to make sure I fall asleep. Because there is another day around the corner to push myself through.
Let's see how many more times I can cry today.