emotional hangovers and hotdog buns.

(its just another manic monday.)

I cried for 9 hours yesterday.

This morning my eyelids resembled brioche hot dog buns. I can’t remember the last time I looked so pathetic. Am I the only person who’s eyes swell to epic proportions after crying? Or better yet, how many women out there have had to get their kids ready for school with a frozen bag of edamame to the face?

Probably a lot, now that I think about it. Fuck. That’s sad.

It was the type of cry that slowly seeps out of your bones. The kind of cry tied to pain thats been woven into the very fabric of your fascia for so long, you forgot what occurred to place it there in the first place. The hours pass but the tears still come and at some point you lose track of what started the them in the first place. But there they are, like the slow drip from a saline bag.