You may think it's silly, but.
My heart, it hurts, real bad.
The consequence of putting on a brave front, a happy and smiling facade.
The consequence of restraining the will to cry, to learn a new way of crying by channeling all tears into the mouth and swallowing all those tears, so that nobody will laugh at me, a crybaby.
"The grief that does not speak, whispers the o'erfraught heart and bids it break."
Can someone, please, stab me?I'm really tempted to stab myself, to get rid of that dull, slow painful pain in my heart, to make it go away.