The Places I've Cried in Public

by Holly Bourne

We walk through these ghosts all the time, not knowing we tread the footprints of another person’s story.

But, I guess, isn’t that always the way with dramatic moments? They don’t play out like in the films, with stunning backdrops that reflect the drama of your life.

You don’t need dramatic settings to experience dramatic emotions.

reflecting on the depressing realization that, despite their reinventions and wardrobe full of new clothes, they were still themselves.

You never know if happy memories are going to become sad ones. They glow and shine in the vast realms of our subconscious, making that part of our brain feel like it’s filled with glitter. We pick them up and cradle them like expensive cats, or wriggle into them like they are jumpers we’ve left to warm on a radiator. Until the day when, for one reason or another, life can suddenly make this happy memory into a sad memory instead. Good memories exist in the naivety of not knowing any better.

Who are you going to trust? The calm boy whose voice doesn’t wobble, who can explain reasonably, and using examples, why everything is fine – or the crying girl saying she can feel something is wrong?

Crying is a very obvious sign that something isn’t going right in your life. You should not ignore tears.

I’d had so much wine, that had sounded romantic at the time.

I’d chosen being whisked off my feet rather than the steady ground beneath them.

Maybe love – real love – is mellow.

Because we always make the girls the villains rather than the victims.

But I can take my journey and my scars and I can use the lessons they gave me to ensure my future path has fewer tears in it.