I sit on my bed, chin resting on my knees that are held tightly to me, and cry. I cry because I feel pain. I feel more pain than one person should ever feel. At least that is my view. Maybe I am weak. Maybe I am the only one who can't handle their pain. I am crying for other people's pain ontop of my own. They come to me and tell me their woes and sorrows for relief and I listen. I cry because I see their pain in their faces as they talk and tell me their grief. I cry because I love them and I don't want them to feel the feelings I do. I don't want them to know how much it hurts, how much it eats at you and can over all destroy you if you let it. I refuse to let it destroy me. Yes, I cry and feel bad but I will never let eat at my life till there is nothing left anything worth living for. I will only let it make me stronger. My pain and sorrow and grief and woes make me the strong person that I am. They shaped me into the person I am proud to be. I will never let it change that. Never.