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Tired Of Crying
15 years ago
One day, in the past, I decided I was tired of crying. I disliked the discomfort of tears as they streamed down my face. I abhorred the pitying attentions others gave me when my face contorted with sobs. I hated each catch of breath as my chest heaved with every word I wanted to say, but could've never expressed in a language understandable.
In this way, I also despised others who cried. Or, rather, others who were made to cry. I consoled them with embraces and with words and with ears, which were the only simple cures I understood to help with crying. Compassion grew in the midst of suffering.
I smiled, because to not smile would send me to tears. I laughed, for to not laugh would make me catch my breath. I worked, because if I didn't work I would not breathe—for I'd choke in grief. People saw strength, compassion, humility; and the people said 'You give me so much strength, you know' or 'Don't cry, because, if you do, I might start crying too' . I saw, hidden behind these things, that same little boy in the past who, despite the decision, was still crying and sobbing.
Can I embrace this boy no matter how hard he flails? Can my compassion make him genuinely, instead of in facade, smile? Can I wipe away those tears he'll never admit to having?
In this way, I also despised others who cried. Or, rather, others who were made to cry. I consoled them with embraces and with words and with ears, which were the only simple cures I understood to help with crying. Compassion grew in the midst of suffering.
I smiled, because to not smile would send me to tears. I laughed, for to not laugh would make me catch my breath. I worked, because if I didn't work I would not breathe—for I'd choke in grief. People saw strength, compassion, humility; and the people said 'You give me so much strength, you know' or 'Don't cry, because, if you do, I might start crying too' . I saw, hidden behind these things, that same little boy in the past who, despite the decision, was still crying and sobbing.
Can I embrace this boy no matter how hard he flails? Can my compassion make him genuinely, instead of in facade, smile? Can I wipe away those tears he'll never admit to having?
This is Very deep Lin. Thanks for sharing what's on your mind. I hope that you find the balance in your life that is so elusive. <hugs>
I just… Never feel like, to the people who see me as such, I can be.
People will never know unless I make it known, but the implicit expectation is so very strong. Sometimes, it feels like I need to be forced to cry just so I do it.