Cry, but why?

The perfect place and time to cry is under my helmet while riding my scooter to college or back home. I don’t have to worry about being overheard, don’t have to worry about wiping my tears and mostly I don’t have to be conscious about myself or my body.
This was the third time I cried while riding, the first time was when I was heading home from college. I was sick, had a headache, felt weak, nauseous, and was in pain that made me cry all the way home, a forty five minutes to an hour long drive. That was a bad day, and the second time I have almost no recollection of except being stared at by strangers and the ass hole who I cried over.

I also cried while watching big hero six, Baymax was the trigger that turned the waterworks on and didn’t stop till I was exhausted and out breath. There are a lotta movies that made me sad, upset and all that jazz, but big hero six is the only one that made me cry.

My crying is usually triggered by all the things that remind me of my brothers’ death, a special teachers deaath, when I feel out of control, when I hate my life, self, body and remember that I’m a failure, can’t do anything right and all of that starts weighing on me and I break. But usually happens not more than once a month and often skips months and repeats in others to make up for the loss.
These are things I’ve accepted to be a part of growing up and adulting. What bothers me is that school didn’t have to be so. If bullies saw me cry everyday for three years because of all the shit they put me through, how do you not feel remorse? How can you be okay with yourself for being the trauma of someone else’s pain?
I want to know, teach me to be okay with it. Maybe then I wouldn’t ever want to cut, kill, or physically harm myself.

Why do I hate these bullies so much? I’ve made my peace with it but a shady kind, so sometimes they just end up pissing me off. They piss me off because all I remember about fourth (4th) to seventh (7th) standard or grad of school is crying, being made of fun, being called names, told I should have been a girl because I make such a terrible guy. Then once I was cornered in the washroom, slapped and accused of stealing, making up mean or rude things. These are the things that still bother about the people from school and what made me cry then, now I cry because of all the demons I’ve let in through the fucking front door.



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