I hate to cry

I hate to cry! absolutely hate it. it's not good for anything and always makes everything a hundred times worse, in the long run. i've read somewhere that a good cry can take away a bad hurt. this, i have found, is unfortunately not true. all crying can do is numb the pain. and, at this, only for a split second, as the first hot tear rolls down my face, making way for seas of emotion to spill and eminate forth, quieting the world around, leaves only me to wollow and waste in the shallow pits of my own self pity. and for seconds, or hours, or maybe just minutes, time is halted for the tears to cry. but, in the end, time again continues and nothing, nothing at all, has changed. the hurt and the pain and the depth of the hatred remains. as do i, with now salty, stained cheeks, and a broken mind and heavier heart. crying won't help. crying can't help. it can only be, by habit and by nature, a solemn, wasting, fake place of temporary relief from what is. any one person can cry all they want, and never stop, and never be happy, or healthy, or even, ever truely sad. what it is they will be is nothing but a conflicting, harsh example of the cruelty that makes up the art of crying ones self to sleep every night. crying, i have pathetically learned over my short, overthought, and almost forgotten years, is useless. crying is a sign of weakness. of giving in. a sad, sad sign of destruction. there is no use for it, and, should no one ever cry, things would be better, perhaps. pent up, but better. no foolhardy wimperings. no shallow sobs and long, agonizing weeps. i am and must hold up emotion and battle truths. i should try never to cry, i shall not ever cry again. and this, i should know, only overly too well....why then, do i find myself crying now?