The flames steaming out of my gas looked perfect - for pushing out my tears of course, I needed it so bad. Sad events rolled in simultaneously and i didn’t tear up one bit.

My chest felt heavy and I could barely breathe as I laid on the bare floor in my room. My stomach growled in protest, a reminder I hadn't eaten in days. Joyless feelings clouded the pain I felt in my stomach, it was a battle and I had no power to interfere. I wanted to stand but my body was too weak to cooperate. 

I looked around and noticed how disorganized my room was, the extensions of hair I made barely a week ago and sachets of already drunk water scattered beside my naked body.

My cat, nowhere to be found, guessed starvation chased him away.

  I longed for a better feeling, a relief but it was impossible. The only way I could feel better was to cry but my eyes were totally dry, not even moist for a second. Pain was eating me deep inside without an outburst and I hated that. I loathed the fact that I was too shattered to produce tears. 

 Thought they said crying is normal? Then why was it difficult for me to cry? 

I crawled to my kitchen and lit up my gas cooker. There, the perfect distraction and solution to my current problem. I didn’t want to feel miserable anymore. I wanted another pain to overshadow the sadness and I got that from the flames of my gas cooker as tears rolled down my eyes finally!