December 5, 2002
Like a wild animal, I deal with pain in solitude. I slink away, curl up and hurt, I can’t bear to let anyone see I care. In front of people I laugh gaily, my mask in place, and steal away to have one shuddering sob and lock the pain inside. I don’t know why I think of crying as weak. I never cry for long. It never helps me all that much either, its as if only a few drops of the pain make their way out, but the rest is still suppressed inside. I can’t let it out, ever.