I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry.

There’s this ache in your chest that happens the moment your heart is about to break. It paralyzes you. Your hands begin to shake and you can’t feel them. The words you want to express become a small whisper. Your eyes well up with a thousand tears that would stop the harshest of droughts. You succumb to it. And at that moment everything falls apart. You break and before you know it, everything feels broken.

I hate that feeling. That feeling of pure vulnerability that nothing will stop this speeding train of emotion. Rip this heart out and transplant me a new one, because this one is dead and broken. Everyone always said that crying was a sign of weakness, and thats all I can ever do. Cry. I cry for everything and anything. I cry when I’m upset, I cry when I’m angry, I cry when good things happen and I cry for every single human emotion. I wish I had this black heart that would stop me. I wish that stopping emotions was as easy as turning on/off a light switch. My mother always said that I would be perfect for the telenovelas, so full of tears and filled with so much emotion. Is that what this is? Just another character to play in an act of a thousand stories?

Why did I have to cry? Why then, why now? Why?

I find myself crying more than normal. Just a sea of a thousand broken hearts before me. I wish I could drown emotions, just suffocate them down as many before me have done. Pretending emotions don’t exist. The more I suppress them, the more the tears form. The more I can’t stop myself as much as I would like too. Promises are meant to be broken is what I realize. People are meant to have their hearts broken. Why does it always happen to me? Why do people always say they’re going to stay and have no problem leaving? I told myself I wasn’t going to cry. Not this time. I wasn’t going to feel heartbroken for people, places, and things. I wasn’t going to promise myself things that were going to fail in the end. I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry, but I can’t help but break. The rush of a thousand heartbreaks and I can’t help but always break my own heart. The idea of loving so much that my own heart falls apart. It was always me wanting the most out of everyone and getting nothing in return. I am the one left with the tears and the broken sorrow.

Not this time. Not today and not tomorrow. I am done breaking and pleading, while breaking my own heart. I can’t take this pain in my chest anymore. This sickness worse than the flu. I can’t get my hopes up for something that will never happen. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t care when all I do is care too fucking much. I am done. Done with people, done with the memories and most of all I am done crying for people that are never worth my time.

I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. This time I won’t.


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