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In Literature, Writing and Blogging 2 min read
Go Ahead and Cry.
<p>Go ahead and cry, little girl.</p><p>‎Nobody does it like you do.</p><p>‎</p><p>‎And we both know why, don’t we?</p><p>‎Should I tell them?</p><p>‎</p><p>‎This isn’t grief. It’s a performance.</p><p>‎</p><p>‎You’ve curated your collapse.</p><p>‎Every trembling breath placed with care, every tear angled to catch the light. You don’t just weep, you orchestrate. You conduct sorrow like a symphony, never missing a cue.</p><p>‎</p><p>‎Let’s name it.</p><p>‎</p><p>‎You don’t cry to heal.</p><p>‎You cry to be seen crying.</p><p><br/></p><p>‎You don’t fall apart to rebuild , you fall apart so someone will witness the ruins. So they can call you brave. Deep. Real. Strong. You’ve turned your heart into a stage, and sadness is the only show you know how to run.</p><p>‎</p><p>‎You polish your sadness.</p><p>‎You hold it up and make sure it’s noticed.</p><p>‎It's your most dependable currency. Cry, and the world softens. Cry, and hands reach out. Cry, and you’re spared the quiet, unglamorous work of healing.</p><p>‎Because healing happens offstage.</p><p>‎Without witnesses.</p><p>‎</p><p>‎So go on.</p><p>‎</p><p>‎Let the tears fall like you’re being filmed in slow motion.</p><p>‎Let your voice break at just the right moment.</p><p>‎Let them admire how beautifully you fracture.</p><p>‎</p><p>‎But remember that every performance ends.</p><p>‎</p><p>‎One day the audience will grow tired. One day they’ll see the practiced shudder, the calculated tilt of your head. They’ll realize the tears were never about loss. They were about exchange. Emotion traded for attention.</p><p>‎</p><p>‎And when the lights come up, and the seats are empty, you’ll be left with the silence.</p><p>‎</p><p>‎No witnesses.</p><p>‎No consolation.</p><p>‎No applause.</p><p>‎Just you.</p><p>‎</p><p>‎So yes, go ahead and cry, little girl.</p><p>‎Nobody does it like you do.</p><p>‎But ask yourself:</p><p>‎when the stage is bare and no one is looking…</p><p>‎who are you then?</p><p>‎</p>

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This is not a confession. It's a confrontation.
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