Sometimes I cry

**SOMETIMES I CRY**

Sometimes I cry because I’m sad.

I’m sad because I am not where I think I ought to be in life.

At 30, there are some things I always hoped I’d have checked off my life checklist that I haven’t.

I’m sad because I don’t have things like a stable job, clear skin, travels under my belt, a child, a husband, a fiancé, or even a boyfriend.

I’m sad because I am 30 without even one of these achievements.

I’m sad because a character I really liked in a movie I’m watching ends up dead.

I’m sad because I got a call that one of my closest friends died in childbirth.

I’m sad because I think about my mom and all the things I want to do for her before she dies that I still can’t do yet.

I’m sad, so I cry.

Sometimes I cry because I’m angry.

I’m angry because I plugged my phone in to charge before I went to bed and woke up with a flat battery because I didn’t remember to switch on the plug.

I’m angry because the clothes I hung out to dry fell off the line because of heavy rain and got soaked in muddy water.

I’m angry because my microwave spoiled due to a surge in electricity, and now I have to repair it.

I’m angry because my mom won’t stop talking to me about marriage like I’m intentionally repelling men.

I’m angry because every adult in my life thinks they have the right to pass judgment on who I am and what I should eat because I added a few kg.

I’m angry because total strangers think it’s okay to call me fat and expect me to laugh and go along with it.

I’m angry, so I cry.

Sometimes I cry because I’m frustrated.

I’m frustrated because I have to do mental mathematics before I can buy what I want.

I’m frustrated because I spent over 3 hours in a traffic jam for a fifteen-minute journey.

I’m frustrated because my internet connection has decided to play hide and seek with me, putting my work to a halt.

I’m frustrated because I have loads of work to finish by my Monday deadline and I’m not even halfway through.

I’m frustrated because insomnia has decided to make me its permanent best friend.

I’m frustrated because for 3 days in a row, I was caught in the rain, deceived by bright morning weather.

I’m frustrated because despite my best efforts, I’m unable to lose weight.

I’m frustrated because I can’t find my work ID card and am exhausted from searching for it.

I’m so frustrated I might go crazy. So I cry.

Sometimes I cry because I’m in pain.

I’m in pain because I have terrible menstrual cramps with heavy flow.

I’m in pain because I’m asthmatic, and my lungs decided to play hooky in the middle of the night.

I’m in pain because I left a razor cut on my thumb untreated and it got infected with whitlow.

I’m in pain because my ex thought I liked rough sex; desperate to be in a relationship, I went along and nursed my bruises alone at night.

I’m in pain because I have diarrhea, I’m dehydrated, and my legs are weak and cramped.

I’m in pain because my new hairdresser braided my hair too tight, causing the skin on my head and edges to swell.

But they say beauty is pain. So I cry.

Sometimes I cry because I regret.

I regret that I didn’t go to science class like my parents advised and study a good course with proper career prospects.

I regret not saying NO loud enough to my neighbor's cousin when he pushed me down on the bed that night when I was 15.

I regret not submitting my work for publication in school because, even though I’m a good writer, having people judge my work was out of my comfort zone.

I regret cheating on my fiancé just 3 weeks before our wedding, forcing him to abruptly call it off, causing a loss of millions in the process.

I regret not being prayerful enough and losing my job to a random stranger because he used a certain font in the proposals we submitted to determine who got to keep their jobs.

I regret not forgiving my dad for divorcing my mom because I couldn’t understand the adult struggle. Now he’s dead, and my forgiveness is of no use.

I regret deeply, so I cry.

Sometimes I cry because I’m ashamed.

I’m ashamed because of the mistakes I’ve made that could have been avoided.

I’m ashamed of not being enough.

I’m ashamed of letting myself go to the point of feeling hopeless.

I’m ashamed because of the jealousy that eats at me.

Jealousy at seeing my peers have their lives together even though life has not been any kinder to them than it has to me.

I’m ashamed of the loneliness that envelops me in the middle of the night, a result of my own actions.

Shame weighs heavy on me, so I cry.

Sometimes I cry because I’m afraid.

I’m afraid of the uncertainties that lie ahead.

I’m afraid of losing the people I love.

I’m afraid of picking up the phone and getting the news that everyone dreads.

I’m afraid that the next time I fall in love, karma will pay me a visit.

I’m afraid of mixing up my boss’s coffee order and getting scolded.

I’m afraid of hitting menopause before I get to say I do.

I’m afraid of my next physical exam because I’ve been experiencing a lot of PCOS symptoms lately.

Fear grips my heart, so I cry.

Sometimes I cry because I’m grateful.

I’m grateful for the supportive friends who stand by me no matter how many crazy episodes I go through.

I’m grateful for the small victories that make life beautiful, like buying the last bottle of oil on the shelf before the price tag swaps to double.

I’m grateful to my neighbor for calling the police on time before my stalker could do any permanent damage.

I’m grateful for the kind lady I met on the bus who recommended me for my current job even though she didn’t know me from Adam.

Gratitude fills my heart, so I cry.

Sometimes I cry.

I force the tears to flow because it’s a different kind of pain when you don’t cry anymore.

You bottle up your feelings and just accept the punches as they come.

That is a stage I hope to never get to.

That is why I cry, not because I’m weak but because I feel things.

I cry because I need to let things out. So I cry.