I take the bad feelings, bottle them up, and smile for the rest of the day. But just before I go to bed, I set them free so they can consume me.
I turn my face to the wall and let the tears trickle onto my pillow. A silent and lonely sorrow.
There were many times when I wished someone would come to check on me and see that I wasn’t well, but that rarely happened. Perhaps I’m a little too good at hiding things.
I hope my future children aren’t good at hiding things. I hope they don’t cry by themselves just before they fall asleep.