One For Sorrow...

I almost cried the other morning. Almost. My eyes welled up but nothing fell. I stopped it before it could happen. I suppose your definition of what crying is will determine whether or not I actually did, but this is not the point. The point is I'm beginning to think I may be a robot.

For the last few days though, I've been fighting a bout of loneliness which kind of detracts from the whole robot theory. Perhaps I'm more of an artificial intelligence, programmed to think I'm feeling emotions. If I wake up with Cylon scrawled across my mirror I won't be surprised.

It's a difficult thing sometimes for me to determine where my emotions are coming from. Rather, if they are real or due to the hormonal imbalance I must suffer monthly. When I turned on GMA the other day and saw pictures of the tragedy at Virginia Tech I felt a sorrow rise up in my chest that eventually reached my eyes. Granted television has become a competition between networks to see who can deliver (read: sensationalize) the news the fastest, the truthiest and the fairest, the images of college kids fading in and out over hauntingly sparse piano music were still images of another sad truth in our nation's history. And I almost cried. Despite it feeling very real I shut the sorrow off and finished getting ready for work.

Is that a sign of strength? Or a mechanical heart?

But in the moment I let the emotion wash over me I thought wow, I can still feel.

Then I got my period and the realness of my sadness dissipated somewhat. Am I diminishing my feelings in order to deal with them? Or am I really just so numb that only my menstrual cycle can knock me off balance enough to create a tear?

I don't know. I'm confused. I always thought I didn't want any drama in my life, but maybe I need a little to feel alive. Or maybe I'm just PMSing. Professionally I'm still frustrated as my promotion still has not gone into full effect, and I don't know how much longer I can tell myself I'm over feeling used and won't take it anymore. Guess three years isn't quite enough. Trying to find comfort in my own arms isn't quite cutting it anymore. About the job, about the tragedy...about the good stuff too. Consciously I feel like I've progressed with how to go about changing my personal life. Subconsciously I'm afraid I'm still afraid.