Tonight, I wish I could cry myself to sleep.

But not for myself. For everyone else who's so sad, so very sad, and won't tell me why. For everyone I can't help and want to so badly. For the few who I have stopped caring about and the few that I can never stop caring about. For Vincent Van Gogh and the Doctor and poor, poor Rory. For Preethi getting lectured on her nonexistant failures and for Jenna wanting to fly me back and for Kristian's abandonment by none other than me. For all the chinabears. For my entire family. For all the people in the world who have lost love and lost hope and lost their favorite pen. For Hazel and Augustus. For the one half of my sweet Micaiah. And then maybe, just one little tear for the girl who wanted to run out of Young Women's screaming and flailing, who wants nothing more than to go on a nice, little, unimportant date, who doesn't understand Precalculus and who can't for the world figure out her history project or her satire on homosexuality, who wishes to no longer be the new girl in two senses, who couldn't see John or Hank for herself, who seems to think only of the one she keeps managing to lose, who happens to be me. I only want one tear for myself. I want to cry the rest for y'all.