tears of a clown.

it was the crying that did it, i think. the tears that rolled down my cheeks were what propelled r. into the other room, closing the door behind him softly and leaving me to my shame and embarrassment. i had just told him i loved him for the first time; he had just told me that he didn't. and i started to cry.

it was august. it was the first time he broke my heart.

it shouldn't have come as a surprise--the signs were all there, from his disinterest in calling me to his asking me to help him pick a costume for a party which he didn't invite me to join. but, i'd spent the entire relationship so smitten, so shuttered, that i was utterly blindsided by this news. and so i cried, from shock, from disappointment, and from hurt. by the time he'd broken my heart for the second time, i was properly reacquainted with my tears, though we'd only passed each other fleetingly in the years preceding.

i spent a long time not being much of a crier. i have no idea why this is; heaven knows i spent the ages of 14-22 largely sad enough to have spent vast swaths of time in tears. but it wasn't really my thing. i chalk it up to an iron will and a seething aversion to cryface. or perhaps actual depression, i'm not sure. all i know is that that day in august opened a floodgate, which had been stemming the tide of eight years of sublimated sobs, and since then i've been the lightest touch to a crying jag.

this would all certainly explain why, on sunday morning, i burst into racking sobs upon the receipt of a message containing nothing but an email address--no pleasantries, no greetings, no message; but also, nothing mean or hurtful. it was from my stepmother, to whom i've always felt close, until recently. logic says that it's her own unhappiness that is causing this distance between us; emotion says it's something i've done, some failing of mine, some offense i've committed to have caused her to stop calling just to chat, to fail to ask me when i'm planning on getting married or if i'm even excited, two weeks after the announcement. to be even remotely interested.

logic, sadly, stood no chance.

for some reason, that email address was enough to trigger a howling storm out of me, a manifestation of all my frustration and pain that no matter how hard i try, there will always be this distance between me and my family, no matter how much i love them. that it is this distance that built my achilles heel, my fear of abandonment and loneliness, and my desperate need for love and validation from other people. it is why i take it so harshly when people walk out of my life (or when i suspect they don't really want to be there in the first place), and why i sometimes act distant and shutter myself off. it's why i spent about eighteen months after college going to bed with characters i really shouldn't have because i just wanted someone, anyone to find me precious, even if it was just for a night.

fortunately, it's also why i am able to recognize how very, very lucky i have found someone who doesn't walk out of the room when i cry, who instead wraps his arms around me and tells me this: "you remember feeling like this before, when there was nobody there to hold you and be with you until you felt better? those days are over. they're over. forever."

even when i have cryface.