I haven't cried in years. Is that wrong?
My sadness is not that of passion.
My sadness is dull, lingering and cumbersome.
I wish I could cry.
I wish I could confront my sadness and release it.
Instead, it festers in my deepest recesses.
I fear that one day it will manifest itself.
Years and years of anguish exploding into existence, all-consuming.
I haven’t cried in years.
I haven’t cried in years. There is something wrong.