a thought from the aisle where they keep the huge packs of quilted paper towels
In an ideal world, I would only ever cry in the shower.
I would save all my tears until the end of the day, then undress, turn on the water and bawl.
Because you can't tell if the redness in my eyes is from crying or soap in my eyes.
Because from outside the bathroom, my wails almost sound like shower singing.
Because you can't distinguish where the water dripping down my face is coming from.
And anyway no one's watching me shower except maybe the NSA, and they're just doing their job.
So no one sees me at my weakest.
No one gets the satisfaction of squeezing saltwater out of me like I'm washed-up sea sponge.
But I'm not living in an ideal world, am I?
So I do the next best thing.
I cry in a Target.