I’m a tough little cookie.
Don’t let the tears fool you.
There are just certain things that just tug at the heart strings which turn on the flow.
My mom used to be a main one.
Still is I guess.
Guess there’s some real trauma in there somewhere.
I remember one time, one of my exes and I were at a friend’s house.
As I was hearing how dedicated his mother was to him and his happiness…
I started to tear up.
Cuz I thought that was beautiful…
and plus, I guess, a part of me wished my mother was like that.
It was too long ago to remember the exact feeling.
But I began to tear up.
When we left the house, my girlfriend yelled at me for tearing up.
That’s why she’s an EX.
Then, there’s suffering.
I think my compassion meter is set too damn high.
I have a HIGH pain tolerance.
I don’t cry, but laugh in the face of pain.
I was a tomboy growing up, I felt I always had to be tougher than the guys.
Tougher, better, stronger, faster.
Well, that all changed after puberty.
Grrrrr. I hate you.
Whenever I’d have a bad fall and injure myself, I’d just laugh it off.
And depending on the injury, hop up and down yelling obscenities.
I’ve stood up to big ass men
and even broke a police officer’s arm once.
I’m a toughy.
So these tears man?
Guess it gives me my softer side so I can still be considered human.