Made the fool

I cried until I was bent over, dry heaving, sobbing like I was being accosted, tears streaming down my face, dampening the collar of my blouse. I couldn't breathe. I grasped at the cold metal bar next to me, hoping holding on to something would center me.

Just make it stop.

I sobbed until I was shaking uncontrollably, like perhaps I was having a seizure or choking. My sobs were puncuated with silence, catching my breath.

And how embarrassing.

I was on public transportation.

I am the girl crying on the train.

This is the end. The end of the relationship that has me bent over.

The end of making a public display of myself.

The end of being made the fool.