One fabulous Thinker

  They laughed when the tears came. "It's just a movie." As if stories aren't mirrors. As if hearts aren't meant to respond. They smiled  tight, careful smiles  When I spoke with fire. "You're so intense." And before any hard words were spoken, I was warned: "Please don't cry." So I learned to swallow oceans before they reached my eyes. I learned to steady my voice while storms rage in my chest. I became careful. Measured. Manageable. And in that becoming, I began to disappear. But it was never just about the tears. It was the way the air shifted when I walked into a room. The way silence held texture. The way sadness announced itself before it had a name. It settled in my bones like weather. I felt what no one said. Heard what wasn't spoken. Carried what wasn't mine  until I realized it wasn't a burden. It was designed. They said my tears were accidents, a body misfiring, a mind too fragile, a heart too easily moved. But he...