Capitulito XV

I have always had mixed feelings about crying.

I hate crying in front of people because then all they want to do is hug you and tell you that it’s okay when you either already know it’s okay, and are just having a freak-out moment, or when you know that it’s not okay and never will be okay.

I hate it when other people cry in front of me, because then it falls to me to do the uncomfortable hugging and reassuring.

I hate it when men cry, above all else, not because it makes them less strong or anything. When men cry, I just know that the shit hit the fan. Hard.

I hate crying because it hurts. I can’t breath. I can’t think. All I can do is fucking cry.

And I know when someone dies or breaks up with you or something shitty like that happens, everyone tells you it’s okay to cry, that crying is good, even.

But I just can’t see how anything that makes your face all wet and your eyes all itchy can be good.

Nick wasn’t so opposed to crying.

Not that he was a cry baby or anything like that. He just expressed himself better that way, where I was one for expressing my anger and grief with words.

Just what I need, right? A crying man to make me feel like a basket case.

I learned a lot from Nick. So much to the point that I found crying almost beautiful.

And there was nothing like cheering him up into the early hours of the morning.

But that time, that first time, that he left me in the hotel, crying was nowhere near where I wanted to be. I screwed my face up like a five year old and crossed my arms over my chest.

I would not cry.