sucon

crying in cafes

whenever i see someone crying in a public place i always assume they are being dumped. sometimes it's obvious, like when a woman was screaming hysterically at a man outside go sushi last year, her mascara streaked down her face and her party dress conspicuously out of place. five minutes ago it was not so. the woman and man were both quiet. her tears were quiet. and she refused to let them stream. she held the tissue almost in her eye to stop the flow, but they fell too fast and thus her underlids were both deltas of tears. but their quiet, together, implies that he was not leaving her, but that instead maybe she was leaving him. or they were discussing a recent death. maybe the death of a childhood friend. c'est depend. then i think of the times i've cried in public places. i remember specifically tearing up when i dumped adam bender in ninth grade. though i think technically was still in puberty, so those tears are slightly different. then there was this summer, coming home on the subway after hearing about jason. i must have looked as if i'd just been dumped. i'm reminded now of a poem i wrote about that time. it was about two of the versions of myself strangers must see on the subway. one version was the crying lindsey. the other was the almost in love lindsey. right before jason's death i had met c. i remember thinking then that it might finally be my chance to have things work out. of course i was wrong, but for a little bit i was very happy with that hope. i wish i knew which version of myself paris is seeing this semester.

posted by lindsey @ 6:29 PM