A fortnight ago. I was attending a marvellous wedding ceremony and no lies, I wanted to be the bride. I wanted to handpick one of the groomsmen to walk me down the aisle. There and then.
That is the level of awesome it was at. I am not one of those mushy persons to cry during happy events. Heck, I don’t even cry when someone dies.
I didn’t. Not when the bride entered the reception hall in her dazzling white gown.
Not when the groom joined her, donning a white suit, on the coveted equally white couch. Not when the Deejay popped the beat for their first dance. I didn’t cry. The music wasn’t those slow tunes that made you fall in love. No. It awakened your spirits to showcase your moves on the dancefloor. Two left feet or no.
Four years back, our school footbridge fell. My very own classmates got hurt in the accident. Broken legs, neck, arms, missing teeth, cuts and trauma. I didn’t cry.
On the day the tragedy occurred, I watched most people in the school wail and shed tears enough to put the ocean to shame. I was there dry-eyed. Not searching for my own tears. I was wondering why they had resorted to tears. No one died.
When I was getting my documents ready to join university, I had to give details about my area. And yes, I had no appropriate knowledge to fill in. I went to the chief and asked her to assist me with the information I needed.
She started telling me those are things I should have asked my mother. She said a lot of things. Damn it, write and sign the papers woman, I was thinking. I was standing there (she hadn’t offered me a seat). I felt as if she was stripping me naked with her words. She was out to humiliate me.
Tears flowed. I had to wipe them away discreetly. She might have called the entire force at that camp to join us and witness a big girl cry. Besides to her, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was trying to make humour through me. The mistake most ‘comedians’ make.
After the magical wedding, we went home as there was no after party. I stayed awake until about 1 am. No sleep forthcoming. I was charged and by the time I decided to put my phone away and concentrate on shutting down my systems, I had left a Whatsapp group and began crying.
I cried silently. My cousin was watching her series beside me. I didn’t want to stir up an emergency. Why are you crying? Unaumwa? Niambie tu. Did someone break up with you? (I wouldn’t cry if we lasted centuries). Has someone died?
I don’t know why I am crying. Must there be a reason behind free flow of tears? Can’t my teary glands express themselves without justification? That’s the truth, I don’t know.
A week after that episode, I cried again. Practically, that’s the last time I cried. I used the fortnight for theory reasons. Am I the only one who misses words when I feel I haven’t used for a while? They miss me too..
It was another night. An evening maybe. All I know is it was in the pm. It wasn’t those hours owls tend to cry at night. What is the sound they make again? Is it howling?
I cried. My eyes turned red. My face was swollen from all the crying. My dad held me until I calmed down. Calm down because I couldn’t stop. I’m never in control of those glands once they start depositing their salty liquid down my face.
My stepmother said I was crying so that I could be heard. I was crying because I was being treated unfairly. My dad said I shouldn’t be emotional. Should I be angry instead?
I cry when I feel a form of injustice has been perpetuated towards me. I cry when I’m in pain. I suffer from emotional pain. A lot of it. The same emotions I am told not to display. It’s not up to me to decide. It is beyond me.
When I cry, I focus on the hurt and cry until my eyes can’t manage this supplementary task no more. I haven’t been having suicidal thoughts lately in these cries. Maybe that’s healing?
You can be everything at the same time. I am emotional, I am hard-hearted to the extent some people call me heartless. They want me to display emotions I want to bury. I am not weak. Not that weak people cry. Not all, some do.
Somehow this one woman makes me angry, bitter and a crier. Negative, negative. Just one person. I am no crier..
When was the last time you cried?