Sometimes You Simply Cry

[plumtreeblossom]

Mornings are emotionally a hard time of day for me. In times of pain, my heart is at it's most raw, my mind most vulnerable to demons that don't flee with the rising of the sun. Even after a night of mirthful levity such as last night, morning redelivers the hurt I'd pushed out of my view temporarily. It takes so, so much to make me cry. I cry rarely but deeply. It takes a lot, but some mornings there is enough. The hurt bubbles over the edges of composure and the tears come.

It is awkward when it happens on the T.

I ride quietly, not able to read as the demons dance in a furious tempest that no one around me can see, yet. Feeling still the searing hot slap of being discarded without a care, like useless litter. Being frightened by the enormity of one of my long-term goals, and by the growing urgency of the other one. It's too much in one moment; it swells past my threshold and without a sound, I break.

There's nothing to do but relinquish my seat and move to the end of the car where the fewest people are. I stand in the back, one hand on the pole and the other masking half my face, making no sounds or sobs, only tears and their acidic sting. I face the window and the black of the tunnel; people politely point their gaze elsewhere. I see my reflection in the dark rush of the window, altered in coloration, like a photo negative, my own image anachronistically flickering in an antique moving picture. The tears streak white down the contours of my face as I try to wipe them away, only smearing them.

I'm then on Berkeley Street. I have to go to work, must straighten up now. I stop in the bathroom two floors down from mine, where nobody knows me. I dry my eyes. Put on a little makeup. A little perfume. And I go to work.

New York tomorrow.

Comments

[scholargipsy.livejournal.com]

Hang in there, Mary Sue.

*sends good wishes*

[plumtreeblossom.livejournal.com]

Many thanks. _{You're the only one who's allowed to call me that.}

[saturn939.livejournal.com]

Evenings are hardest for me. I generally feel much better in the morning.

-Dej

[minkrose]

same here. I like the night but I'm definitely more emotional then. I find that I only cry in the mornings when things are at their worst; that's my sign that things have gone out of control bad.

[moria923.livejournal.com]

Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry you're going thrlugh such a rough time. I wish I were there to give you a hug.

I think the worst times for me are when the tension keeps building but I *can't* cry. Then crying feels like a relief. But it is awkward when it happens on the T.

How long will you be in NYC? Can we have dinner next week?

[micklawson.livejournal.com]

If it's of any use to you, Rose oil, though rather expensive, can be helpfull for those emotional times, a drop on a hanky, sniff when needed.

[androidqueen.livejournal.com]

i'm so sorry. do have fun in new york.

[audioboy.livejournal.com]

*hugs*

When I was working down in Quincy, back in the early dawn of my life ATBM (After the Big Move), I would occasionally find myself crying by the time I got on the Green Line at Park Street. I was usually able to manage a seat either in the front or at the back, facing the wall or the window.

It took me awhile to figure out why it always seemed to happen then, but I think it was because that part of the trip was so monotonous that my mind was able to wander and ruminate on all sorts of things. I ruminate whenever there's a lull in conscious activity: in the shower, on the bus or the train, sitting on a park bench, etc.

Damn, why can't I write wonderful novels or songs instead? Rumination is so passé. ;)

*big squeezy hugs*

Have a fun time in the Big Apple.

(and watch out for those vicious Chicken Hearts!)