i felt like i couldn’t cry.

i thought, what is it going to take? will it be like this forever? this god damn sadness has just been building and building up in my heart and it’s easy to ignore until the next bit of it comes. i’ll tell you that it’s getting so bad that when i hit a pothole in the road on my bike, it shakes me up so bad, me and my weak little heart, and i just want to cry there in the middle of the road.

but i couldn’t cry. i sat at the bus stop thinking about how great it would be to do it. that feeling of release and validation (because crying validates emotion, as everybody knows). i sat on the bus and resigned my eyes to being dry, which is a terrible feeling, as you must know, because it makes you want to cry even more.

i was making tortellini. the house was dark and deathly quiet- a tableau blanc for my introspection. i started thinking about my dad and i had all these memories that came up, so i wrote to him, when i called you today, you caught me off guard when you said ‘hey! i love you…’ in such a plaintive way that it was like you were sad about the distance between us too.

i was making tortellini and i caught hold of a whimper that came involuntarily from my lips. it was comparative to a tiny opening into some other dimension in some science fiction, where you have to put your little finger into it (before it closes) and then rip it open. and it fucking ripped open.

standing there in the kitchen over the tortellini with a wooden spoon in my right hand, sobs began to wrack my body. my bottom lip was tightening (i didn’t know it could even do that) and quivering in a cliched sort of way. inch by inch my body was tensing up as i lost control. my face contorted and contracted, my mouth hanging open with no chance of closing it, drool trickling out the side, it was as if i had never cried properly in my whole life. it was as if i had been holding back, willfully controlling the crying fits of my past – now my whole body paralyzed and shaking with violent small-wavelength tremors. i felt like a fucking sponge. tears were flowing out my eyes and right back into my open mouth. i tasted salt. i couldn’t do anything – couldn’t even put down the god damn wooden spoon in my right hand as my body just crumpled. i thought of god. i wish you could have seen me. i’d have bet anything that every single tiny crease in my face was five feet deep, that my usually modest dimple looked like a horrifying chunk taken out of my face, that my eyes were clenched up so much they retracted into my face, replaced by something like Mono Lake, and just as salty.

at the end my heart feels like my head feels when i drink slurpee too fast. my face is sore. these feather-soft cough/sobs are coming from somewhere in my throat. fuck! i want to do that again! or am i going to have to wait another year for it to build back up again?

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