I hate crying. When teardrops slip down my cheek and onto my pillow case I feel weak. The same as a deer feels weak before a hunter’s mighty gun, or a small kid backing down from a fight he knows he cannot win. The pain of my past runs through my body like a bolt of no merciful lightning. When I cry it feels as though I have failed myself. It feels as though the world knows I am a coward. This is the side of me I hide. The side that huddles in a cramped room pouring myself onto my bed, sobbing loudly. But even though my life has more perfections than imperfections I can’t help but feel like there’s a devil pushing my weak moments and the moments I fear above all others. I hold nothing back. I holler in my mind at those who have hurt me and weep at the loving thought of those who helped me prevail. Tonight the tears I shed will not be for pain. Tonight shall be reserved for happy thoughts that made me the person I am today. I’ll shine a light on all my accomplishments instead of weaknesses. The only tears I drop will be overpowering tears. Tears that guide my mind in remembering all my sweet goals that have been achieved, instead of the sour candies of my past. As thoughts whirl through my head I glance at my mirror on the backside of my door. Appearing in the reflection is a glossed and polished pare of lips grinning and reaching just above my rosy red cheeks. They give me a glimpse of my once lost smile that has been found within my pit of sorrow.