I cried last week.

I don't cry unless I'm compelled to. And then I never cry in public. I don't know why, but some part of me probably perceives it as a sign of weakness.

So I cried last week, and when I did, I was lying in bed, crying silently into my pillow, so that I wouldn't wake up the rest of the house.

I don't particularly enjoy crying, but it's useful, sometimes. When I cry because I'm stressed out and have too much to do, I let the tears fall and sob and sob and sob until there's nothing left to cry about anymore. At the end of it all, I feel slightly better.

But when I cried last week, it wasn't stress. I can handle stress. I might complain and cry and feel exhausted at the end of it all, but I can still handle it. I cried because I had emotions. I felt them and they were overpowering, and I don't handle emotions very well. I didn't cry uncontrollably. I cried a little and stopped and cried again, because I kept telling myself that I needn't let those emotions get the better of me.

I've been crying easily lately, but I suppose that's what happens if you spend six-maybe-seven months feeling slightly sad.

I have a feeling I'm close to hitting what they call 'rock-bottom'.