Just another one of those days...

Today was just another one of those days... With no real trigger or cause I simply found myself fighting against the building pressure time and time again...and losing time and time again. Looking up to the skies (or apartment ceiling) I just felt the tears fall down my face and neck. I'm not entirely sure why I bothered to look up. Was it to pray to the heavens or universe for some kind of relief? Was I looking to somehow ease the pressure? Maybe I was just trying to prevent myself from looking like a complete mess afterwards by letting the fluid flow downward and out of my face.
I could feel my right hand clutched firmly around my throat. Not enough to choke myself in earnest, but just enough to make me feel the pressure. A pressure that was meant to be oddly calming, to counteract the pressure I was feeling on the inside. This lasted for a few seconds, until I could feel my breathing steady itself. And so I removed the hand, only to feel the next wave of sadness rise up inside of me.
They say that crying is supposed to make one feel better and provide relief, but I think that people who say that have never had to wonder when the crying will stop. I've always felt like the tears and sadness were threatening to tear me apart. As if the pain of a thousand souls were weighing on you and had yet somehow infiltrated your very being at the same time. Impending doom and destruction pulling and tugging and yet pushing and tearing away at you...it's no wonder that I try to avoid crying. The fear that it might all overpower me and finally push me over the edge and cause my whole being to be ripped apart has probably helped me build up such a strong resistance that the tears hurt more than they should.
Of course, there's also the issue of pride and dignity. Who would want to see someone like me cry? Nobody should be subjected to the sight of me period, let alone the sight of me in a vulnerable state like this. So, these were the days when I shut myself in and locked myself away from the world, even though these were the days when I needed people the most.
Getting up, I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The tear-streaked face drained of all color, the soaked eyelashes reflecting the light of the lamp, the bloodshot whites of the eyes turning the irises into brilliant emeralds shimmering in a sea of red. From a more objective point of view, one might almost say that there was an incredible beauty to my misery and despair.
As I get ready for bed, I can't help but feel relief that the end of another one of those days has finally come to an end, for the few hours of sleep will hopefully give me a chance to recover from my inner turmoil. And as a final thought, all I can think is that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow will be better. Maybe tomorrow will not be another one of those days...