Sadness

Whenever I feel overwhelming pain, I have two choices:
1. I can hold it inside and bottle it up and know that I'll never be alone in my house to cry alone.
or
2. I can lock my door, shut the blinds on my window and hide beneath my covers. My blankets offer a sense of security that nothing can penetrate. I can sob those terrible sobs that rack the body and make great heaving sounds, but regardless, I am alone. I can hide underneath the darkness and be alone and with my own privacy to feel my own feelings at their fullest.

Most of the times I end up choosing option one. But for the past two times that I have felt the feelings of crying rise up inside of me, I have chosen option 2.
There is something so freeing about releasing my emotions in one tear-filled moment when I can be completely alone and without people barging into my room. And once the feeling passes, I can continue on with my merry life contemplating things and trying to be deep and insightful. (Hahahah! Whenever I tell people what I'm really thinking about why people do certain things or wear certain clothing, they are shocked and tell me I'm really deep. But whenever I tell someone they're deep, I mean it in a very caustic way. It's very surprising :).)
Which brings me to today.
Today in my horrible Physical Education class (or L'EPS as I would rather call it because French is wonderful!) I was in a contemplative state. I was talking to one of my friends who I'll call Ginger and she was looking up ahead at this one girl in front of us. This girl had squeezed herself into jeans about four sizes to small and a top that had her arms and torso practically busting out of it. Needless to say, the sight was not great for the eye.
Ginger was shocked at the girl's clothes and very disgusted. "Why would she ever think that was cool? Her boobs look like they're about to explode out of her shirt!"
"Well, judging from how tight her clothes are and her body type (thick and short) she doesn't appear to have much confidence at all. She probably wears her clothes so tight to get attention and possible appreciation for her body." I felt that this is something that is easy to figure out, something that people talk about in books about depression and cutting all the time. Needless to say, Ginger just looked at me:
"Wow, that's deep."
"Thanks," I roll my eyes.
Though regardless of the fact that I can only really be truly when I feel most lonely, I do like the perspective.