Today I am eighty percent tears.

Red eyes, stuffy nose, and overly sensitive ears… I am overstimulated, 

Full of love and hatred 

at the same time, 

so I cry 

to clear some space for a chocolate bar and my assigned reading. Why are people so mean and greedy? 

I cry making eye contact with a homeless lady; 

Maybe I never grew up, 

Maybe I was never ready 

to be so far away from family and friends, 

to count minutes for my shift to end, 

and to spend hours in the library rewriting my essay. I miss his presence. 

The guy I dated in May, 

or the photographer that looked too sassy to be straight, or the dude who gifted me his T-shirt; 

Doesn't matter. 

So I open another issue of The New York Times 

and cry. 

I just need a hug and perhaps a tissue

By Anya Yasenovets