Passing Afternoon - Iron & Wine

I didn't go to sleep the night before my flight. I didn't go to sleep because I was crying too hard. The torrent started around 3am so I didn't bother putting my face in the pillow because I knew my parents were definitely conked out by then. I was on the verge of tears the entire week I was home anyway, but just when I thought "oh it's time to cry isn't, best find myself a private spot" I held myself back the way you think you're going to sneeze; only the need to abruptly ends. And you're left standing there (wherever you are) wondering what just happened.

I could tell you what I was crying about, but those of you who've been keeping up with this joke of a blog should know by now what I always angst about. So I won't repeat myself in this post. They even gave me hong bao even though it was a week before Chinese New Year officially began. My mother had slipped the two packets under my pillow, kissed me goodnight, and shut the door. Fifteen minutes later, I could hardly breathe through my tears. You'd think silent crying wouldn't be as exhausting, but oh was I wrong. After an hour or so, I calmed down enough to reach under my pillow and see how much they gave me. Five hundred dollars. Subdued sobs started afresh.

You might think I'm forever crying about this-and-that, but it isn't true. I only get misty-eyed about family matters. For anything else, I'm a cold, dry-eyed bitch. I don't know how to explain why I get so sad about having such a wonderful, loving family when I could be much worse off. Maybe it's the fact that I'll never be good enough for them or that I torture myself wondering whether or not I'll ever be deserving of their love. Maybe it's because I hate myself so much that I can't understand why I was born into such lucky circumstances. It could be any of these things.

Eventually, I fell asleep whispering "sorry, sorry" into the ceiling, my tear-streaked face still hot to the touch.