An Explantion As To Why I Look Like An Angry Marshmallow

I spent last night awake. I couldn't sleep no matter how many natural sleep supplement pills I took. I finally fell asleep around 4:30 only to be awoken two hours later by the first phone call.

This morning, I woke up a total of three consecutive times to a total of three consecutive, steadily worsening phone calls from a dear friend in a great deal of emotional turmoil, so despite the fact that the sun had barely even begun to rise, I drove to go check on him.

What I found was not good at all, but he's in the hospital now. That is all I shall say on the matter.

Then I got home, changed clothes, braided my hair, avoided my oblivious parents so that they would not sense that there was anything wrong, and tried my hardest to shut down every part of my brain that was not necessary for functioning. I drove to school, arriving half an hour late.

It was as I was turning into the school parking lot that my self-imposed neural shutdown ceased to be effective. Cue tears in copious amounts.

I am not a crier; this is a sentiment I have shared with you few and foreign followers time and again. I think the mix of sleep deprivation, early morning crisis-aversion, and the fact that I had been late to school when I had promised I wouldn't be all combined and brought on the onslaught of frustrated, terrified, confused tears.

I was not prepared for this latest development. I sat there in the lot trying to stop, if not at least cry more quietly. When I had managed to calm myself down to silent Sparta tears, I decided it was time to face the day, so I went in.

Side note: GHS is a small, gifted school within the larger high school where we take most of our classes. For GHS specifically, there are two separate rooms which are used only by the gifted kids. They're softly lit, cozy, over-sized offices, one each for the main curators of the program, where students can work during study hall or independent study which are perpetually filled with a few students at all times.

It was only after I entered one of these rooms and was asked a simple "How are you?" that I realized that I was not, in fact, quite ready to face the day yet. I couldn't stop myself, the tears came pouring out all over again, this time accompanied by full, unadulterated sobs.

I hate crying in front of people. It makes me look weak and vulnerable, which are two things I am NOT and hate to portray myself as. But here I was, unable to hide the fact
that I was sobbing uncontrollably in front of a good five or so other people.

And then, the strangest thing happened: everyone in the room rushed over and started hugging me and asking if I was ok and what happened. I just wanted to grab the box of tissues and bolt, but I was genuinely touched by how my classmates reacted. At GHS, I'm not particularly close to anyone, and yet they all put aside their immediate tasks and tried to see if I was ok.

I was crying too hard to talk really, but when I choked out that I didn't want to talk about it, everyone just let it be and offered quiet support for me.

At HHS, this would never have happened. First of all, I would have been humiliating myself in front of a full classroom of people seeing as HHS has nothing like the special just-for-GHS rooms. The girls would have looked the other way and whispered to one another and the boys would have glanced at each other with that wide-eyed "Females. Wtf man?" glance while the teacher would have awkwardly handed me a box of tissues and given me the bathroom pass so that I would have an excuse to go clean myself up, even though their real purpose would have been to get me out of the room so that I would have stopped distracting the class.

I would then have had to combat a spray invasive questions and extreme rumors for the rest of the day.

But, luckily, at GHS, everyone just sort of let me be and I was able to make the half hour of work that I missed.

Side note again: I keep finding more and more reasons why I love GHS; the list just won't stop elongating.

Unfortunately, I couldn't stop crying for like, an hour. I think since I cry so rarely, my body was trying to make up for lost time. I was able to stem the flow of tears down to being almost completely gone, but then when Philly came up to the room for our second block independent study, the tears started speeding up again.

I've only ever seen Philly cry once, and it was momentary, so I'm not sure she knew what to do, but she sat by me for a few minutes while I finally got myself in check. I think my tear ducts ran out of tears.

It was then that I realized how adorable (and by adorable I mean bright red, puffy, and make up-less) I must look. I am not a pretty crier. I'm not like, one of those super mucus-y, dry heave-y criers who sort of regress back into being a toddler when they cry. I am also not one of those girls who can look beautifully tragic and can manage to keep their make up from running while they cry.

I do the whole scrunched face, agonized looks thing. My eyes get red, but I generally cover my face and stuff because I don't want people to look at me. This morning, though, I think due to the sheer volume of tears that I managed to squeeze out of my face, my entire face was bright crimson and my cheeks had taken on sort of a swollen look. I looked like an angry marshmallow.

After half an hour, some cold water, and a few generous coats of mascara I looked slightly more human, but I have been rocking a definite puff-factor all day. I think I sprained my tear ducts or something.

Anyway, aside from my ridiculously overemotional morning, the day was lovely and fairly stress-free. I checked in on my friend after school and all is well, or at least better.

Hope your day was infinitely less traumatic than mine,
Julia