Nature is overwhelming.
If I ever need a good cry, I'll go to the woods and watch the autumn leaves fall.
Clinging to the last drops of summer. Those sweet, fading memories.
The other day, the wind blew so hard that it shook the branches and a cascade of yellow fell on me.
But one leaf stuck to its branch. One leaf fought. It didn't fall. Until a greater wind came, and the leaf found its place on the forest bed along with all the rest.
I would've thought up a not-so-clever metaphor about myself, but I was too busy sobbing.

I am a cry baby to the point of exhaustion.
Sometimes I imagine filling up a bath with my tears and soaking in it until I have surrounded myself with myself for so long that even I can't stand being my own company anymore.