Cry baby

I tell myself I am not going to cry, I am not going to cry, I am not crying, I am not crying as though if I say it enough, it will be true.

I am not crying because my roommates, if they don’t actively dislike me, just ignore me.

I am not crying because someone (I don’t know who) texted one of my roomates “Arielle ruined Christmas” and he thought it was funny or memorable enough to save to his camera roll yet got flustered and acted like it didn’t exist when I accidentally saw it and I have no idea what this means but it can’t be anything I want to hear.

I am not crying because my roommates never invite me to spontaneously-planned dinners or drinks at a bar.

I am not crying because I feel all alone in Kansas City. I am not crying because I feel more depressed than I have ever felt.

I am crying because the season finale of The Hour was TOO EMOTIONAL. I am crying for those poor babies in Connecticut. I am crying for the injustices my own babies have to face. I am crying for all the injustices in the world, and all the things that are worse than feeling lonely or rejected or just plain sad.

As though if I say it enough, it will be true.