The Worst Feelings Ever, According to People’s Experiences
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Bottled Up Sorrow
Needing to cry but not being able to.
I lost two of my puppies this May. Rottweilers, at one-year-old, within one week of each other. One had been sick a while; the other was so healthy that two of us had to pick his dead body up. I’d delivered them with my own hands; they were two of a litter of eight, the only two to survive because I refused to let them die too. I didn’t cry because everyone else was, and someone had to keep their head on right.
My adopted stray tomcat died a month after that. Got hit by a car crossing the street. My mom was heartbroken. I couldn’t cry in front of her.
My oldest cat went into renal failure the same month. She was paralyzed from the waist down soon after and slowly deteriorated over the next few months. She died last month, my sweet, sweet girl. I’d found her and her siblings when they were less than a week old. I had her for ten years. She passed, and I went and buried her myself because my family didn’t want her to go alone. They came and stood by, completely shattered. I didn’t dare cry.
I’ve steadily lost touch with every friend I was close to over the past year. The two who know how I’m struggling are geographically too far away to even talk to regularly. The rest have all shown sides to them I didn’t know. I needed to cry every time. I needed someone to just listen, even if nothing else. There was no one. The last time I practically begged my best friend of five years to spend the day with me because I didn’t know what I was going to do with myself, and he lost his temper with me, saying that it ruined his mood just because I was in a bad one. He actually screamed at me on the phone to learn to deal with my problems myself and hung up. I sat on the bench outside my workplace for a few hours, too numb to move. Then I went home.
I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry. About a month ago, things finally began to look up a little. I met someone and reacted with him so positively that I was hopeful, after so long, that something good could come my way. It didn’t. I’ve spent the last few days sitting up most of the night trying to figure out how to cry this out, but I just want to scream, scream all of this out, and it won’t work. I need to cry so badly that I feel like I’ll implode, but I can’t cry.
