Times I Literally Cried
Countless are the times I felt like crying, but I find it infuriating how I can’t bring myself to cry, tears and all. I can’t recall too many times when I melted into tears, like when…
…I was a kid of about 4, sitting at the dinner table with all my family. Being summer, I spent a lot of time outside and I had a tan and a lot of freckles on my face. My sister noticed these speks and commented, “I think Maurice is going to have red hair when he’s older.” Directly in front of me was a plastic bottle of ketchup. I cried.
…I went through that phase as a kid of 8 or 9 when all I could think of as I was falling asleep was death. I would cry myself to sleep every night.
…I got back to my apartment in Halifax that late-October evening in ’88. Earlier that day, Hiker unexpectedly asked that we become “just friends.” I suspect — I fear — that I may have cried myself dry in the days that followed.
For today I fume. I rage. I stew. I mope. I slam my fist on the table. I raise my voice. I speak fast. I clench my teeth. But I can no longer bring myself to cry.
Even the sadness of that statement doesn’t make me cry.