Maybe not in person, but in spirit, their heartbeat in sync with mine, or maybe mine's too fast for theirs to keep up, but we'll be in this together, all my fears and all my tears held up in both(more) our hands.
In another world, there's no reason for me to cry.
They're sitting with me, cracking jokes at their own expense, cheering me up with laughter, life's weakest medicine. I don't sit and cry at 12:16 AM because I feel so lonely. Instead, I sit with them, stuck in this together.
In another world, I'm not as sorry a sight as I am now, waiting for a stranger I've known my whole life to come upon me and treat me like a person, not a carcass. In that other world maybe that stranger shows up, and maybe they aren't a stranger, but- Mom, maybe, or Dad, or whatever nickname my little sister has at the time. And we sit and I cry, but at least we're in this together.
But I'm not in that world. I'm not in that universe, I'm not even on that planet, not even a part of that family. I sit and my companions are my own creations-the snotty tears I wipe at with my bare hands but am too exhausted to care, the raspy breaths that make me feel like I am a marathon runner competing for my family's care, the blurry vision that reminds me how hard it is to stop crying once I start, on nights like this.
There's nobody to defend me, nobody who loves me, nobody to promise we're in this together.
It's just me, and my tears, and my breaths, and my vision.