I cry a lot. I always have. everyone has always noticed. everyone has always pointed it out. a substitute teacher I had in the second grade called my mother one day to tell her that I needed to grow thicker skin. maybe I just need a thicker skull. a thicker heart. I think I'm too susceptible to the dark realities of humanity. maybe even when I was younger I knew of the hopelessness that is life. maybe that's why the tears poured from my adolescent eyes on their own accord. maybe I am a vessel. A delicate little receptionist of all of the darkness in the hearts of the inhabitants of my biosphere. It seeps from their pores and digs it's way through my skin and into the deepest extremities of my existence. I am small and I am meek but oh, how I can love. How I can wail and how I can cry and how I can hold passion inside of me. I am a fragile vessel, but oh, I am vast.