After about 51 days I realized I’m not like other people.
After a long walk, after I had time to get out of my immediate surroundings and think; I stood outside on a train platform even though it was freezing. I leaned my back against the wall and rested my eyes, closed them, and realized I was crying.
I’m not like other people, I’m not. I forced myself to open my eyes as I noted that my mascara isn’t waterproof and dabbed them carefully.
It is really, truly cold outside but I don’t care. It actually takes the edge off a little bit.
People pass by, look at me and quickly look away. I don’t care. I’m crying because of the cold, obviously. Or because I’m pregnant, or not pregnant, or was pregnant… At least that’s what I used to think when I saw an extraordinarily sad girl. I guess that has something to do with it, anyone thinking that would be somewhere in the ballpark of correct, I suppose.
But again, it doesn’t matter. I’m not like them. I tell myself it’s comforting.
Later, I’m walking through the crowds, taller than most. Numb.
I can see it now; I’ll move soon. I’ll take a new job in a new city and I’ll never breathe a word of what happened to me to anyone who doesn’t have their head between my legs. Most likely, I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone. And I’ll be just like them.