"I Cried Today" by Logan Thooft
I cried today. I didn’t think it would be possible. Throughout the day, I walked tirelessly, burdened with the weight of my thoughts. “I failed that exam. I’m not going to graduate. I’m not going to get the job that I want. I suck.” I kept walking, with the thoughts weighing down behind me, until I couldn’t bear the weight anymore. I finally sat down, alone in an isolated alleyway and, despite how much I resisted, tears began to well up in my eyes. More thoughts appear: “I’m so alone. I can’t take this anymore. Nothing I do matters. Why do I even bother trying at all?" All these thoughts that I kept buried beneath me burst back up, like a geyser erupting with boiling water. I hold back as hard as I can, not wanting anything to come out until, with a slight push, a single tear escapes my eye.
It starts falling…
and falling…
and falling, until…
Plop!
The tear is now a mark in the ground.
“This feeling is familiar,” I suddenly remember. There has always been pain, sadness, and tears. It all just comes and goes, like a tidal wave washing up on shore. Memories then start to flood in.
I remember the farm I grew up on. My family would use water for a lot of things. Growing crops, hydrating animals, washing the day’s dirt off their bodies. The work was hard and came with its own trials. Eventually, water would spring from my own eyes with my body aching in pain. “Don’t cry. Crying makes it worse. Man up.” Those would be the messages I would receive rather than a brief but fulfilling moment of comfort. Water that nourishes and refreshes life was seen as good. Water that came from my feelings, however, was a sign of weakness. If only I was tougher. I could’ve been a farmer, a caregiver of life and a provider to those that need water. Instead, here I am, stuck beneath the weight, unable to move. All I can do is sit powerlessly while the pain cuts within my skin and into my heart.
In theatre, everyone is allowed to feel something. The actors get to put the emotions of other people on display, without putting their own feelings at risk. The audience, on the other hand, gets to experience and validate these emotions together without feeling alone in their own. I envy what the audience has. For a limited time only, they decide what character’s experiences and feelings are worth responding to. Theatre is the only place where anyone can let tears fall like a storm’s heavy rain drops and be received with thunderous applause. However, the audience only sees what the script wants them to see.
They don’t get to see an actor have a mental breakdown, releasing their hidden and personal emotions, from behind the curtain. They don’t get to see the same actor struggle to fit into this community of artists disguised as a popularity contest. While the actor struggles personally offstage, the rest of those in the theatre are intertwined with the stage, like an inside joke. The stage is meant to be an open space to express our feelings and our human creativity. However, if you’re not considered “talented” enough to fill the space with your acting, designing, or desire to learn, you might as well be nothing.
“How is the day treating you?” Someone once asked me, as I sat back and watched the world pass by me. “Good,” I say, halfheartedly, knowing full well that I actually feel nothing. I’m struggling in a class even though I’m giving my all to understand it. I want to find a job I can succeed in, but I have no idea what my purpose is supposed to be. I lost a friend, not because they died or left school but, because they’ve chosen not to speak to me again. I say that I’m fine, but deep down, I’m a mess. I try to be strong, but inside I’m broken. I try to smile, but the weight pulls my lips down into a frown. I’m back sitting on a bench in my alleyway, exhausted from my memory trip. Tears flow steadily from my eyes like a running stream with no thirst to quench, but my own desire to feel anything but this sorrow.
“Am I cursed?” I wonder. “I can’t be cursed, I’m just me.” But is just me enough? I know I can be myself with my own unique sense of self. Yet, for some reason, my individuality is unacceptable. People don’t like or accept me for who I am. I can try and do the things they can, but none of it comes natural to me. Unfortunately, I’m not what anyone wants me to be. The most painful thing of all, however, is not because I have thought of all these things before, but because nothing I do changes the tide. I can be in the best place I’ve been in since what feels like forever, like a hut on a beach. However, the wave always comes to wash away what I’ve secured for myself like it was all for nothing. As I continue to sit in my isolated alleyway, the rain starts to fall and blends seamlessly with my tears. While I’m soaked in nature’s tears, one final thought begins to sprout in my mind. “Life is so hard. I’m supposed to flow a certain way with the world, but I just can’t do it.
My current goes a different way, disrupting the flow of the world’s river.
So then, I finally ask tearfully, if the world says that I’m not tough enough, talented enough, or even happy enough, then what am I?”