You Stopped Crying

You stopped crying because everyone told you how pathetic you are. That you should get over him already. That he wasn't worth it. You didn't believe them but you hardened your heart until it was nothing but an empty Coke can you could take out and kick around when you felt like it. It didn't matter. It was just your heart. This pathetic old heart that got broken because it didn't deserve to have its love returned.

You stopped crying because the tears and the source of the tears dried up. You stopped crying because something inside you died.

And you felt it die. And you knew that the world was a little duller, a little more bleary, that the colours you had before, were now gone. You stopped crying because you got used to the pain. This dull ache inside that twinges at times, but doesn't bleed. Not anymore. Your blood is thick now, it moves more slowly. It clots quickly. It is not thin and sparkling like champagne leaping through your veins....no, nothing makes your pulse race or your heart skip a beat.

You stopped crying but your eyes are shaded, hollowed, haunted. Not so as anyone would notice. But enough so you know that deep inside you, it's gone.

He's gone.

And your pain is not his business. He doesn't care but it is not for him to care.

In fact all he feels is disgust because your pain was so potent, so public and it rained down recriminations on his head. His friends said, how could you? How could you? Look at her! Don't you have a heart? How could you do this?

And he said, I can't pretend to love where I don't love. And please stop making me feel guilty about it. I want to move on with my life. You're either my friend or hers, and if you're hers, please just leave me alone. I don't want to hear it.

I'm tired of it.

I'm tired of her.

I'm tired of you.

You stopped crying because they told you he said that. What sort of fool could continue to love after you heard something like that?

You could.

You loved because you couldn't help yourself. You loved like a disease, an affliction. A weakness. A giving way. A tearing. A dissolution.

But you forced yourself to stop crying.

You also stopped laughing. But nobody noticed. They were just so glad you'd stopped crying.

And you stopped loving.

You wanted to stop breathing. But that was not allowed. They rained their voices down on you. Their concern. And you didn't want to disappoint them.

You were pathetic.

You knew that.

But they didn't have to know that.

So you went skydiving and wrote about it. You ate food and you took pictures of it. You joined clubs and you told the world, hey look at me, look at this, look how happy I am.

You smiled. You forced the light into your eyes. You posted your pictures on every social media platform you could lay your hands on. You wanted to be everywhere. In everything.

No one could miss you.

Look at my fabulous fabulous life, you said.

Look at all these friends. My friends. People I hang out with. People who care about me.

Look at how I'm never alone. Not even for a day.

Look at me.

Look at me!

LOOK AT ME!!!!!!

I'm not crying anymore, do you see?

I'm not crying.

My Book

So my book is out. And I've run through the first very limited printing of 50 copies. Who would have thunk it? I thought 50 would be way more than enough. But, apparently not. So I'm printing 100 more.

I have lists of people to send it out to, people I want to give a copy (because they are not depressed enough, and a little more sadness is always good).

These are strange times.

I can't believe that I printed so many copies, that I'm doing readings and parties and book launches and signing the copies and and and...putting myself out there, as if my life depended on it.

And, while all this is going on, putting together the next book...and the next.

Why the urgency?

Beats me. I really have no idea.