I don’t cry. I just don’t. Maybe it’s the way I was raised, maybe it’s because I’m medicated, but even the saddest Dog-Dies-In-The-End movie does not even get a tear (although, it should be mentioned that I don’t like dogs). But ever since my brain has realized that I am getting to the end of my undergrad career, mere eye contact will reduce me into full-body sobs, and it’s completely unnatural.
I started noticing The Crying as soon as I came back from spring break. I was driving back to school and I realized it was the last time I was going to be driving to my school, and the next time I’d be driving home I would have everything I own shoved into my Accord. The thought of leaving everyone that is currently important to me started welling up in my eyes. I brushed it off and acted like it was just the air conditioning drying out my eyes and kept singing along to the radio at full volume.
Greek Sing was shortly after we got back. We stayed up late nights running the choreography over and over again. By the ay of rehearsal, we were all ready to kill each other. Anna had no facials, Katie was a half second off in every dance, and Becca was just being her usual bitchy self. But when the day came and we got on stage in front of all of Greek Life, it was work it. All of the animosity we had towards each other melted away and redirected itself into hatred towards all of the other sororities. We were ready to kill it. We danced our hearts out, and when it was over, I took a second to think about all of the performances I had done over the years and how much I’ll miss being on stage. This time my eyes didn’t just tear up, a few fell down my cheeks. I let no one see, because I was not about to be that bitch crying over Greek Sing.
It’s only gotten worse from there. I cried during my alumni ceremony when my best friend held my hand. I bawled when my roommate and I went to Sonic for late night ice cream for the last time. I grieved my last trip to the liquor store to get my usual handle of plain Svedka. I lost it when my little called me “Big” when she came up to me in the library. I got emotional looking at the graduation pictures of my high school friends because I was so proud of what beautiful and capable women they have become. Even when I laugh I start crying because it reminds me that I won’t be able to laugh with my friends for much longer. It’s teetering into psychosis at this point.
I don’t want to graduate. Not because I am sad to leave, but because I am so sick of the tears. This has been too much emotion for my normally bottled-up demeanor, not to mention it’s fucking up my mascara on a daily basis. All I can hope for on the other side of the stage is a new beginning and an end to all this crying..