Why i cry (or don’t)

This morning, laying face down in the pillows, waiting for the alarm to sound on my phone for a third time, I lulled in and out of dreams. It is so hard for me to get up. Carrying my body across the bedroom floor, into the kitchen, towards the coffee; it’s all painstaking and heavy.

I decided to use cold water to wash my face, and while it helped me feel more energized, it also made the redness and blood vessels in my face blossom.

I wanted to cry. Do not cry over your skin, I told myself. Do not cry over your aching, tired body. It’s part of the unearthing. The rebirth and awakening, happening over and over again. It’s part of getting to know yourself today and sorting through the things worth crying for.