When I cry, I cry hard.It's the gut-wrenching kind, the sort that leaves my abs feeling like they just did 100 sit-ups.
This is more than crying, though. It is desperately lonesome sobbing.
It counteracts the incredibly bright and joyful me, which I show the world. Yes, there is a girl inside me, just beneath my smile and the bright colors of my living room, which feels like she's dying inside.
It is a slow death, the kind you don't even notice immediately because it's happening so gradually. Like a potted plant on a sunny windowsill, I'm surrounded by light but I'm not getting watered with anyone's love. Sure, there's some moisture deep down in the soil from the roots of my family, but nothing new is hitting my surface.
Yes, there are loving friends beside me, but their love only goes so far because they are sitting in a different little pot altogether. They can smile and say they love me, but ultimately, their roots are drinking from another source. They have their own family, their own siblings, their own life.
I was just metaphorically re-potted by being placed in this new house, but still, there is no shower from anyone's love. I've got the same soil with me, and it's drying up fast.
Or perhaps I am like a willow tree who can only count on the water that's deep beneath her, her roots firmly planted with the love of God and her family. But when my parents die, who will provide me with any sustaining love other than God Himself who I cannot touch or hold?
IT IS NOT RAINING on this willow tree. It is not raining at all, and things are becoming deathly dry. The leaves of my life are getting scorched by the sunshine.
Perhaps you've never noticed, but I don't get photo prints made (there's not a single photograph in my house) nor do I make scrapbooks because I have no assurance that anybody is going to stick around. Furthermore, I snap people out of my life like I'm pruning my branches, when the reality is that I have no idea what I'm doing and those branches are snapping off only because there's no water running through them to keep them alive.
I'm conserving this water because I feel like I haven't got much of it left. I feel like I'm 2 to 4 years away from a breakdown. But my smile and happy persona will be enough to distract you from ever thinking there's a ticking time bomb beneath my surface.
