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Kiwi Crocus
16 September 2008 @ 04:04 pm
  • 09:34 The cake is a lie!!! (Nu, not fer rlz, giggles.) BeeTeeDoubleya, Deb keeps touching my chair and arm when she talks. Uhm, haha?
  • 09:39 My "coffee" is really just too much sugar and French Vanilla coffeemate or whatever. It's probably barely considered a liquid.
  • 09:42 Kit: "I just really like confusing you." Kiwi: "You're good at it. You should go into it professionally." Kit: "I did." Snork.
  • 10:43 This is not a good place to be when Captain Planet is in a bad mood. And I'm denial follow up. I'm going to shoot me in the foot.
  • 12:55 Zoe(umlaut)'s email just made me smile so wide, which is excellent because the last call just killed me in the face. 16 hours left total!
  • 14:01 Off I go! Shaya awaits!
And that's a wrap, folks! Kupokweh!
 
 
Kiwi Crocus
16 September 2008 @ 11:46 pm
I cry a lot. I never cry at the right time.

4 years ago:
[Kiwi goes through years of bullying, hip fracture, three surgeries.]
[Given ample opportunities to cry.]
Kiwi: "Mum, I don't need the vice principal helping me into the CAR!" [Begins crying for the first time in a lifetime. The Era of Kiwi's Uncontrollable Tears begins.]

3 years ago:
[Kiwi is in Chemistry and asks to go out in the hall.]
[Panic attack with many tears and so much hugging.]
[Gets to guidance councilor and can't cry one tear, is merely angry.]

2 years ago:
[Mrs. Cavanagh sings to Kiwi on stage for National Honor Society Induction.]
Later,
Mrs. Cavanagh: I thought you'd cry.
Kiwi: [Blushes.] Well, Mum cried for me. I was too happy.
[Goes home and cries at the beauty of it.]

[Kiwi and Mrs. Cavanagh are staying after. Kiwi has decided to take the hip replacement.]
Mrs. Cavanagh: I wish I could help you. It's OK to cry, Kiwi.
[Kiwi shakes her head.]
[Cries for a half an hour as soon as Mrs. Cavanagh has left and it's officially April vacation, during which she will be going to university interviews across the ocean in pain and a wheelchair.]

1 year ago:
Dana: Fuckin' hell! I fucken' hate you! [Slams door, kicks things, slams more doors.]
Kiwi: Well good! The feeling's shared!
[Silence, no tears.]
Later,
Lindsay: I don't consider us friends.
[Kiwi cries through math, won't go to lunch at Bobby's insistence, cries through lunch in a corner of the room.]

Summer '08:
[Kiwi smiles brightly and hugs Mrs. Cavanagh a goodbye hug.]
Kiwi: "Goodbye, Mrs. Cavanagh!"
[Kiwi stands there waving as Mrs. Cavanagh reverses and drives away. She smiles all day.]
[Night before a 13-hour drive, Kiwi spends the evening sobbing on her couch in the place Mrs. Cavanagh had once sat after a hip-replacement visit.]

Kiwi to Snoopy: I'll probably cry.
[The hang out.]
Kiwi: Well, uh, I'll see you in three and a half months, then! [Rambles, teases, and is out.]
[Kiwi sobs through yard, cries all the way home, and spends a long while in her room violently crying.]

[Shaya talks about them crying, how it would be better if they both did, relieving to cry together and not just have prickly eyes and barriers. Kiwi agrees.]
[There is much heart-wrenching and could-be crying moments. Kiwi changes the subject, dives into anything else, is always on her toes and on the run.]
Shaya and Kiwi: Bye, KS!
[Kiwi spends an hour crying about her kindred spirits for entirely different sets of reason.]


There is also the fact that I have cried a total of two tears during therapy for years. Two consecutive, tiny tears, looking into my therapist's brown eyes as I sat there in terrible pain and waiting, waiting, waiting for a hip replacement at 17. Waiting for my body to give in because it always seemed just so close.


I am feeling so melodramatic right now. I will cry like a non-Kiwish baby at Wicked, but I cannot cry when it is in the interest of everyone there. I can not cry with Arah over missing Rowe. I can not cry with my mother there unless I am so stressed that I would cry at anything, with anyone. I have held my sobbing, drunk mother through a New Year's and not been able to cry myself.

Sigh. Self? Please, the barriers? Do we need them now, really? Would it kill you to cry when there's comfort? Must we be alone or in the arms of the woman who no longer has the job description or interest of Nurturer? Must be within a crowd of Rowies? Are we so limited to those three ideals? Because, believe me, the one of those that we just keep picking is not at all ideal.

Yes, I'm pretty sick of crying alone. If I can understand that tears are not weakness, and I can now cry, why must it be a perfect or unattainable environment that sparks it, if it is not to be alone?


I have thought a lot about tears today. I have thought a lot about those who have been mentioned in these posts, as well as those who haven't.

I wish I could have crying parties.