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Mar. 6th, 2003 02:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zana16I learned not to cry years ago. I learned late—I cried well into elementary school—but I learned fully. I didn’t cry for months after my sister died. It took me most of my life to even discover the memories of being raped, and I still can’t attach a face to that nameless man who haunts my dreams. He nearly send me into insanity when I did let myself cry, so I don’t. I don’t probe the fragments of memory that I have of him. I don’t even know if he’s real to anyone except me.
But today I was brought to tears by a gruff word. I almost fell apart in the middle of class but I couldn’t let her see me cry. Because that just makes it worse. It makes me pathetic, the sensitive child who can’t face rejection.
On one hand, I ask myself, how could I have left myself vulnerable to attack? It took me ages to learn and longer to try to unlearn.
The other says, why did it cut so deep? Why can’t I just accept it for what it was: a tired friend snapping at my worrying too much about her?
At the very least, I’m improving: it took me a whole 15 minutes before the first “maybe it was my fault” hit. I’m trying to find a way to come out on top. Living the good life is the best revenge. But I’m not forseeing happiness here.
And now I’m ready to break down again. This morning I was fine, better than fine; I was happy for a few precious moments in there. What is wrong with me?
Why am I broken?
And then I cried myself to sleep, got up the next day and was fine.
But today I was brought to tears by a gruff word. I almost fell apart in the middle of class but I couldn’t let her see me cry. Because that just makes it worse. It makes me pathetic, the sensitive child who can’t face rejection.
On one hand, I ask myself, how could I have left myself vulnerable to attack? It took me ages to learn and longer to try to unlearn.
The other says, why did it cut so deep? Why can’t I just accept it for what it was: a tired friend snapping at my worrying too much about her?
At the very least, I’m improving: it took me a whole 15 minutes before the first “maybe it was my fault” hit. I’m trying to find a way to come out on top. Living the good life is the best revenge. But I’m not forseeing happiness here.
And now I’m ready to break down again. This morning I was fine, better than fine; I was happy for a few precious moments in there. What is wrong with me?
Why am I broken?
And then I cried myself to sleep, got up the next day and was fine.
