Here a cry, there a cry, everywhere a CryBaby

Dear Readers,

I have been meaning to write this blog for some time now. If you read my last blog, you'd expect me to be a bit off. Boy, am I. Today I want to tell you about something that has been happening. I won't stress punctuation with this blog, that as other things that used to come natural to me, is lost to me. My voice does not require punctuation, my feelings can't be solidified by a period or comma.

In the past week I've seen three people crying on the train. Strangers all of them. The other day, I stood over a woman who was looking down. She had a yoga mat and duffel, and her skin was that newly dried dewy...shit, I'm a writer, I look at these things. What called my attention to her was the fact that she was rubbing the leather edge of her bag through her fingers. These are the type of moments that catch my attention. The same way she was fixated on this mindless behavior, I too was vested.

So I watched. Remember from my vantage point, I was above her. I saw one drop hit her bag. Then another, another and yet another. I shifted my view and yes, she was crying. That slow leak of tears, that she had no control over. She didn't wipe her face or her nose, rather, she allowed the tears to have on last salvation on her chin, before they hit her bag.

What to do? Readers, I wanted to comfort her, but it occurred to me...I don't know why she is crying. Maybe her plan for world domination starting with yoga, failed this evening. Maybe she left her water bottle and was too thirsty. Maybe she had a rough day at work. Maybe she is lonely. I am going to go with lonely. I don't know why she was lonely, but I do think that crying is a lonely activity.

I didn't comfort her. I did look away for a minute, so that she could cry in private but then I thought....what makes her think she will have privacy on the Bronx bound 4 train? Another thought occurred to me about this crying business. Though crying is a lonely activity, it is also about attention. Perhaps she just wanted strangers to bear witness to her pain.

That I can respect. So I watched. I watched and thought good thoughts for her that went something like this:
I hope you have a good credit score
I hope you continue with yoga, your skin is lovely
I hope that you get to eat your favorite food this weekend
I hope that your tears are worth it

Cryer #2 was on the Pelham Pkwy bound 6 train. She (or he, there was a taste of gender idk)was not ashamed of crying. She was looking straight ahead and defiantly alternately wiping her tears and hugging herself. I was almost positive that her tears were about a lover. She had that incredulous oh no this nucca didn't put me through this ish once again. Oh no I didn't fall for that ish AGAIN??!! I don't have much to say about her. She was noticeably upset. I wanted to sit next to her, hug her, over her part of my lunch.

She didn't deserve such misery on a beautiful Monday. I hope she is ok. I hope that she is laughing.

Cryer #3, I don't remember. Maybe it was me.

Readers, my eyes are getting heavy. I think its about time that I get to sleep. I have been so exhausted lately, it takes me forever to sleep.

Oh one last thing, remember when I told you how terrible I was doing in school?
Well I failed the class. That makes me want to cry, but my eyes can't deal out any more tears.

Currently there is a tear deficit.

Dear Readers, I've never asked you for a lot, well, not really...and by no means do I mean to insinuate that you are prayerful, but if you have a little good thought that you can think for me, I will really appreciate it.

You get me, that's why I love you.

Lola