Thursday Night Secrets

I am a crier.

But I'm not your typical crier. I don't cry very often in movies or while watching a Hallmark commerical. I can probably count on my hand how many times I've cried while reading a blog post. I don't believe I have ever shed a tear for a literary character.

I cry while lying in my bed, late at night, reflecting on all the pain and joy I have witnessed and hear recounted throughout the day. While I remember the people who have come and gone. Curled up in ball, squeezing my stuffed bear Pierre, letting my tears soak his fur.

I cry when I'm driving in my car, listening to a song that reminds me of him, or her, or them, or everyone, and I can't help but miss the time when I wasn't so aware of everything.

I cry when I'm sitting at my desk, reading and re-reading another story of fears and hopes, of challenges and perseverance. It's not just one particular story on a blog, but the whole idea of it.

The whole idea of a community of otherwise complete strangers bound together by this single event with effects that ripple through every other event that comes after it.

My mother told me when I was a child I used to be very sensitive to other people's feelings. When some girls in my Girl Scount troop would fight, I would get upset about it. My friends in high school called me an empath because the pain someone else felt would also be as strong in me as in them.

I started turning it off my senior year in high school, because it got too hard to handle. It got too hard to handle the emotions of other people, in addition to my own.

Sometimes I wonder if I have sprung a leak.

I scrolled down Kerri's blogroll tonight, and a tear fell for each one of them.

I wish there was something I could do to make things easier. I try to tell myself that what I'm doing is helping, that it's making a difference, but it's so hard sometimes. I wish there was something I could to make things better for people, to make it not hurt so much.

I wish there was something I could to make me not hurt so much.

I cry while I write a story about how I wish I didn't cry. I cry while I tell everyone to not be scared. I cry while I tell everyone that it will be okay and to just smile and be brave.

I wish I was braver.