Her tears fell, one drop at a time, and, got into, his heart, and, because he was way too young, he’d allowed her emotions, to affect him, without knowing, that she’s the one who was, feeling them.
Through time, he’d learned, to HATE her tears, because, he felt controlled by them, and yeah, based off of how FUCKED up her GOD damn childhood was, she was, more than allowed, to cry, but, she feared, that it’d, affected her young children, she’d, swallowed, all her tears down, into the PIT of her stomach, but, no doubt, her young son still, felt his mother’s sadness and sorrows.
And, as her son grows up, he’d started, hating seeing people cry, because, he’d felt, controlled by their tears, even IF other people’s tears, unlike his own mother’s, which had coercive properties, theirs don’t, but, he’d still, carried that sense of being controlled by her when she cried, and, generalized to everybody else he met that cried.
Weighed down by her tears, I once was too, just like him, but, after I’d figured that DEAD bitch (died of that excruciating CANCER, from WAY back in 200?) out, her tears stopped having an affect on me, and the very FINAL time I’d visited her, she’d sprained her ankle, and, I was left alone, inside their bedroom, with just her in bed, and, she’d started using, that overused TRICK, and, when she saw, that her tears stopped having an affect on me, she’d used that overly used phrase, “Child, don’t you have a heart, to feel for me???”, and that time, I didn’t feel a single thing, JUST like how when the news of her death came to me, I’d not, feel, a single GOD DAMN thing either!
Life, the Obstacle Course 