Sitting in a meeting; the powerpoint clicking to yet another slide.
Tears well up. Breathing rate increases.  "Oh God, not here, not now".
Memories pour into your mind like a tidal wave.  
This tidal wave feels like it's going to crash out of your tear ducts.
In a singluar motion, you slip out of your chair and head to the door.
Trying not to be noticed by anyone, everyone notices you leave the room.
You make a b-line to the restroom. "Oh God, please let it be empty".  It is.
As soon as you reach the empty stall, the tears start to fall.
And then comes the sobs, the relentless, heavy, gasping sobs.
Tears and snot stream down your face.  You are worried that you will run out
of toilet paper.  

All you can do is what you have to do: weep.

You weep for all the loss you had and are still grieving in your life.
You weep because you can't take anything back.
You weep because all you ever wished was to be good, to be perfect, to be loved.

After a good 20 minutes you regain your full consciousness.  You look in the bathroom mirror.
After some good rearrangements of glasses, you stir up the last bit of tears and try to squeeze out as much sadness as you can to "get over it".
Finally, you clean up and head back into the meeting.

You are well aware that everyone will be wondering what took you so long.
You put on your armor and march to your seat.  No one looks up.  In reality, noone even noticed you were gone.  There is no pause in the disucssion.

Done.  Next slide, please?