I am tired of crying.
I am. I have absolutely had it. I have cried more frequently and more ferociously in the past 6 years than I have in my entire life, and my tears have fallen with a furious speed followed by the deepest sounds of despair I have ever known myself to emit; the sounds an animal makes when in intense pain. I have been face down on my bed countless times, pounding my fists like a toddler while my eye makeup stains the sheets. I have screamed into my pillow on my lunch hour until my throat was hoarse, and then I have calmly driven back to the office for the rest of the day. I have clutched the shower curtain and sobbed loudly into the rushing water as a start to my day, my week, my month, and my year. I have collapsed to the floor of my apartment in every room and watched as tears fell to the hardwood floor and filled the cracks of the floorboards. I have ruined many white t-shirts.
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