Saturday, April 30, 2011 | By: BlackGargie

The Thing About Crying

People tend to say that I'm a happy-go-lucky person, that I laugh and joke a lot and don't have the cares or troubles of the world.

That I am oblivious to all that is negative and unholy or whatnot that they wish to put their dark thoughts to it and that my innocence is better off with it.

And they said I never get mad, or cry, not once.

That's not quite true.

I do get mad, but you just haven't seen how mad I can be without looking at me face to face. And those who have seen me actually mad as hell sure knows not to mess with me when the topic is something that should not be messed around with around me.

And I do cry. Just not in front of you.

My life with my mother has taught me that crying was not going to get me anywhere. No one will rescue me by just crying. And because I often have to cover her ass and not let anyone know that the perfect good ol' Mom was actually an abusive psycho bitch, I often laughed away my pains, putting up a happy front, telling others that everything is OK. Everything was fine. Everything will turn out alright in the end.

I laughed and smiled so much that I forgot how it feels to cry.

I eventually forgotten how to cry.

I only would cry if the beatings and punishments were taking its tolls on me, or to try and gain at least a bit of humane sympathy from my cold-hearted bitch of a mother, and those tears never really last long because one part of me knew that the tears are not going to help either way. Other times, I wouldn't, or couldn't, be able to cry even if I wanted to.

I had to rely on listening to sad songs or reading sad stories or watching sob movies on the telly to help me cry. To help find that place that was buried deep inside me, hurt and alone and dejected and abused, and let it all out to make me feel better.

And when I start crying over something, I cannot stop until I've cried for at least a good 10 minutes.

That's how bad I needed to let myself go at that time.

Now that I'm no longer in that nightmare of a hellish life and with my hubby, I savour every chance I get to cry.

No, I still don't cry in front of my friends. My smiles still stayed on.

Because my tears are reserved for my hubby for him to comfort and ease my pain, and allow me to let it out without judging me.

To have him cuddle me in his arms while I sob out my sorrows and pain and insecurities was one of the best feelings and the main reason why it was worth crying.