I really should be working on my AP U.S. History essay.
But alas,
I'm here.
And I keep thinking.
More like wondering...
How often do you cry?
How often are we, as humans, supposed to cry.

Many people just shy away, into the shadows, never showing any emotion at all.
How often do they cry?
Sometimes, I cry for no reason.
I like the way I feel afterwards.
The feeling like you're so tired you're just going to collapse in a big, melted, pile of a you that no one knows.
A you that you hardly even recognize.
And it's there, in that moment, when you can uncover all the different dimensions of how screwed up your life really is.
You can lay there in your bed,
Sink into your matress like it's the only thing you have left,
Grab the sheets up into your sweaty palms and hold onto them as if they are your only lifeline, And let your tears fall onto the pillow that once helped you harvest your most meaningful dreams.

In that second, you are who you are.
No lies.
No masks.
No excuses.
And it's liberating.

Once the tears are gone, and your face no longer hurts from being scrunched together,
you only have yourself, and the silence left.