Here we are again.
This same question.
Why are you crying?
You ask me the question to know the answer.
Not to help.
Some days your curiosity overrules your empathy.
Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that maybe comfort could help?
No.
It probably hasn’t.

I cry because I can’t speak.
My words get caught in my throat until I have to swallow them down like every other thing I’ve ever felt.
Some days emotions feel like marks of an outcast.
Some days my sadness makes you angry.
Is it because you don’t know why?
Does it scare you?

I cry because of you sometimes.
Putting words in my mouth until you make me choke so much that I can’t try to make you understand.
It would never work anyhow. You wouldn’t listen.
“You’re just being argumentative”
“Just breathe”
“Tell me why”
“You’re fine”
“Clean yourself up”

I cry because the way you’ve become accustomed to my pain hurts me deeper than any petty cut caused by some insignificant thing.
I once told you that I thought I had depression.
You replied with “I know.”
You knew.
You.
Knew.
You didn’t help me find my way home.
You left me to drown in my own icy black waters.
I had to claw my way back out.
You just walked away.
I’m trying to understand why.
Was there a reason?

I cry because I don't deserve to.
I know I should be happy.
I know I should be okay.
Why am I falling when I should be flying?
There are people out there who won’t be eating today.
There are people who are mourning today.
There are people who lost everything today.
I am not those people.
Why am I crying today?

I cry sometimes.
Letting my insecurities and fears and anger out of their cages.
Letting the vultures peck away at me until I’m dry and empty.
Lowering myself back on to ground level.
Letting logic regain control of the ship as the storm settles.
Making a bit of room for laughter at the table.
Condensing the voluminous emotions into a simple conclusion that I can carry in my pocket for when I need it.
Why is that a bad thing?