When I was a child, I used to hide to cry. There are details in my personal story that explain why, but it’s also a pretty universal thing. We hide when we are hurting. We hide to lick our wounds. We hide to not impose, upset, shock, appear weak. We hide so we can let go.
I’m as fascinated with my crying as I am with my orgasms. And the tears seem like an even more truthful measure as I don’t know how to induce them. (The orgasms on the other hand… but that’s a different story for a different time.)
When I wasn’t doing well, I would cry all the time. Supermarket aisles. Waking up. Sidewalks. Cooking. I guess making up for all the times I had suppressed tears before. And then there was the wailing. Scary as hell breakdowns where I sounded like a wild animal. I haven’t had those in a long time. I figure I cleaned up most of the corpses and soothed most of the demons. I only wish I had recorded it, the sound of my exorcist sessions. Maybe that’s morbid or something. It’s just that I’ve never expressed anything as powerfully.
After receiving the Weebly removal notice, I realized something had been triggered. Of course I was upset about the loss of what I thought was a solution. But this other pain was too sharp to be only about that. That’s how I usually know, the sharpness. Uh-oh, here comes the past. Run if you have to, face it if you can.
It’s not ok to be you. It’s wrong to be you. It’s dangerous to be you. You can’t be you. We don’t want you to be you. You need to stop being you, or we’ll make it stop for you.
There’s a special taste to negating yourself. To denying your self. At first it’s horribly acrid. Then it’s like swallowing darts. And at the end, it’s dull flat numbness. You’ve obliterated yourself, there, happy? Now you don’t feel a thing…
This is why I recorded myself. I felt too vulnerable to show my face but I knew I wanted this testimony. Please, here she is, hear her, listen to her. Don’t wanna shut myself up and swallow the pain. Don’t wanna go back into the silence of nothing. Don’t wanna be the inexistence of the tree no one heard.
Hiding To Cry (emotionally explicit)