My own mother will attest that I don’t cry. Or at least she rarely see me cry. I have never tried to correct that notion. It’s comforting that she thinks of me as big strong woman who can take anything. Someone who doesn’t cry after watching Bambi, or bawl under the pillows after getting a reprimand from my boss.
I’m going on another trip. I’ll be gone for only 12 days, but I already find myself crying while driving away from my parents home.
Crybabies will always be crybabies. And the hell will I let them know about it.
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