Crybaby

I’ve always been a crybaby.

Because of it, my parents would chastise me, my schoolmates would tease me, my teachers would humiliate me.

So I cried some more.

That is, until little blemishes appeared on my face, especially along the path of my tears.

Crying, I looked it up, and learned that excessive crying can dry your skin and leave unflattering scars.

And so, that night, I was determined to stop crying.

I decided to start laughing instead.

I laughed as my knife found its way into my mother’s heart and my father’s eyes. I laughed as I watched my schoolmates fall to the ground, writhing one by one, over the tear-shaped cookies I made for them. I laughed as I tore into the flesh of my teachers, their blood painting the floor a dark, dark red.

The funny thing was that each of them cried before they met their end.

I looked up at the ceiling and laughed, long and hard.

However, a tear made its way down my face, followed by another, and another.

Soon, I was violently sobbing on the floor.

I guess I’ll always be a crybaby.

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Image source: deviantart.com/simplesighs/art/Tears-1083484
First written January 20, 2018.
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