I stopped crying a while ago. I looked at my trembling hands, shame and embarrassment perched on my shoulders.
All… All I ever do is mess things up and cry. It seemed like it was the only thing I was good at. My entire body was still trembling with the aftermath of sobs, my fists clenched in righteous anger.
Why was I so weak? Why did I always mess things up? Why couldn't I do anything right? Why was I made like this?
I felt angry sobs bubbling in my throat again and I wiped my tears angrily, refusing to let it flow. Refusing to succumb to it. I was getting sick of crying so freaking much!
Perhaps that was my gift. I was given the powers of crying like a helpless child. For some reason, my heart bubbled with a tinge hatred against…myself.
Straining against my pathetic emotions, I
