a day of (postponed) mourning

I'm not sure since when, and I refused to think why.
There's the fact that I cry at the weirdest moments, at the randomest scene or musical notes, of things I should be smiling about...

I whined to myself, and always scolded myself for being a silly crybaby.

But not that day.

That day, I said enough is enough. Mindlessly, I indulged myself with isolation; the kind of slow, lazy day I dream of; of musics and strange articles and videos of my favorite musician talking about strange stuff, of washing the dishes with no rush, of all the coffee, tea, milk and chocolate I can make for myself, of books and movies I watch alone in an empty house.

I told myself, now we are alone. Now I allow you to feel anything. Now you don't have to hold back.

And I cried.

I cried at everything, at the music and the smiles, penguins and stars and baby giggles and tag games on the mountains. At the identity I shunned, at things I hid away. At the childhood I lost, the family I never had. At the image of partners doing their best against the world. About families supporting each other, about undying love and the purest of expressions. About death and life and everything in between.

I mourned, mourned and mourned, everything that I am, and everything that I am not. Everything that I have, and everything I do not have.
It's alright, I told myself, you can mourn. It's fine if you are upset with the way things are, were.

Since when? I buffed up, saying I never care whether my family is broken or anything, what fucking bullshit. That I have no problem always achieving perfection, that I deserved all the beatings I got for not getting 'perfect', I was such an idiot.

It's fine, I said, mourn all you want. And so I cried, from noon to sundown, sunrise to fall. I cried out the weight in my chest, cried myself dry and cried some more. Until my head is light and the ache subsides, until my nose runs and I inhale deep, deep breaths through my mouth, that my body relaxes and I thought I could just die, just like that, with that feeling of strange 'okay'ness, I wouldn't mind.

Then I woke up, got dressed, headed out and stared at the sky for a long time.

I allowed the storm fall from the heavy skies, and although it's not yet a clear sky, the sun rays left a pretty sight of a rainbow.

It was a light, warm, and comfortable feeling.

And you know what?

In the end, no one else can do it. It was I who picked myself up. The only one who fully understood, the extent of intrication and sorrow I dare not tell anyone. The only one who won't mind them all.

like that, I delivered my gratitudes and sorries. It's a long way from being finished, but this is enough for now. You are enough.

You are mighty fine.