I would- if I could- just cry and cry and cry. I'm not sad but
still I'll cry. Crying is not a sin, it's not something to be ashamed
of because it is a relief. It's an escapism. So I will cry because
my heart needs to escape. It can't handle of confusion, too much hope
and happiness. It doesn't trust itself to not doubt every single one
of them. So I cry; secretly hoping that my little dark cocoon will
leak- and I'll slither myself out of it. To cry is not a cowardice
act. It's an act of freedom.
