I am a self-confessed drama queen. I cry over silly movies and TV shows, documentaries, and even TV commercials. Sometimes, I cry over difficult lessons and unbearable workload. I cry when I get stranded alone on a stormy night. I cry over sentimental songs, poems and storybooks. I shed tears over almost everything that touches my emotions even to the slightest degree. Crying has become my comfort blanket, the magic carpet that I use to escape from pain. Tears work as my potion against even the smallest dark spot inside. My life has been melodramatic. I am a drama queen.
I thought it was a good thing. I was told that crying lengthens your life because you release the tension that would otherwise give you heart attack. I read a quote saying that tears clear our vision. And so I thought there's nothing wrong with it.
But there is.
I messed up with and brought trouble to someone's life. I got hurt... maybe not as deep and serious as those emotional wounds that would make anybody else cry, but it was real pain for me. I felt that yesterday's bliss had gone so far away. And so I cried though I didn't intend to. Then I opened my eyes and realized that people think this is another broadway drama they are watching... that after a few moments I would put my tears into a sudden stop and laugh as if nothing happened. It was a joke. I am a joke. When a joker tells something serious, people hardly believe. When the boy cried "wolf!" for the third time, nobody came over to rescue him. The same fate happened to me. I feel so ashamed... so stupid.
I cry for shallow reasons, but I never fake it. All my tears are real. But then... would people believe me? I bet they won't, so I have to stop and join them in thinking that this is nothing but a soap opera. So much for being a drama queen.
No comments:
Post a Comment