I want to cry. I want to. I can’t cry. The culture of my youth beat the crying out of me. Just like it beat into me when is appropriate to celebrate. Celebrate your birthday! celebrate your wedding! Celebrate your graduation! celebrate here celebrate there. Cry for death. Cry happily for a birth. Cry for pain so horrible that you can’t remember that you’re not supposed to cry when something hurts. But under no circumstances should you cry because you had no choice but to take a pay cut that has left you without fun money for the past 6 months you fucking pussy. Suck it up and deal with it.
Jerks, my childhood friends, plain assholes. I’ll cry if I want to. At least I wish I could now.
The world has changed. I’m now surrounded by people of the same generation who all just want to cry and filet their emotions onto me. The same people who made fun of my glasses in grade school are wearing that exact same style.
Me, I’ve evolved into a cooler style of glasses and have learned to control my crying by just being silent or changing the subject or shrugging it off with some humor so i can sort through my emotions in private.
Now I’m the asshole. I’m the bad friend who is inconsiderate because I don’t understand why they are emotional. I’m the one who tried really hard to suck it up to survive and those same skills that made me not the cry baby, now make me he asshole. I’m fucked either way and to top it off I’m broke. These parasites just keep feeding!