Do you ever cry until you feel like there are no more tears left? I do. And when someone asks, “What happened?” I don’t know how to reply. I just can’t pinpoint one reason, because it feels like a jumble of many. Some Koreans call it a “mental breakdown.” There’s way too much going on that I can’t organize my thoughts and I have no idea where I need to start. 

But after I spend a few hours—that feels like a few minutes—bawling my eyes out, I feel empty. It feels nice for the first couple of minutes until I look at the clock and feel useless again. I begin reflecting on what I completed this day, only to realize that I’ve wasted time weeping over some reason that I can’t even identify. So I start crying again and by the time I stop, I need to wipe my tears and get ready to attend midnight online classes. 

Staring at the pile of tissues rolled into small balls on my desk, I want to cry more—and deep inside, I am screaming for help. I don’t know how to escape this cycle that returns once every two weeks (or so), or perhaps every time spent at leisure. Sometimes, I find myself comparing my essays, academics (grades), activities, and opinions to someone else, wondering why I can’t be as good as them. But most times, it’s just meaningful tears, with unidentified meanings, that pour out. 

I want to talk about this mess in my head, but these days, people just don’t seem to care, or maybe everyone’s too busy caring for themselves. They say that they’ll listen to me—that they’ll care. But from what I’ve experienced, not many genuinely care. Those words are emotionless or perhaps used to pull off that “nice kid” reputation. People react to my texts or initiate conversations because they have something to say, not because they want to listen to me. Some just can’t relate, as they haven’t undergone what I have, and I don’t blame them. I know we can’t equate our experiences. 

However, one concept that I’ve definitely learned from my endless hours of crying alone in my room, as well as journalism class, is that our conversations today are dots on a scatter plot. The topics are not related to one another, and we tend to speak more than listen. Why? Because what we spit out of our mouths are more relevant to our lives, and thus, “more important” or “more interesting” to us. During a conversation, when you remember that you heard a rumor that someone broke up with another person, you suddenly shift your attention to this topic. But what was the other person talking about? Do you even remember?

Don’t get me wrong, I am guilty of this too. Everybody probably is or was at one point. So these days, I’ve been trying to lead conversations off of what the opponent says but when he/she jumps this track, my will to listen suddenly disappears. Were they not listening to me? Was I the only one who was attentive? Do they care about anything of what I just said? When I take it too far, I question if they even cared about our relationship at all. 

The same applies to when someone promises to listen to my concerns. When I listen, I usually lay on my bed, try not to multi-task, and place myself in their shoes. Or if the person asks how I feel about a certain situation, I attempt to imagine myself in the scenario. I’m not the best at it, but I at least put in some effort to listen because, to the narrator, “it” worries or troubles them. But when someone is clearly bored or not concerned, you just don’t want to speak with them because you’re worried that now, you’re wasting their time. So sometimes, I end up just keeping my concerns to myself, because if no one wants to listen, why tell them? Of course, I want to blurt out everything and cry without any thought. But if I do, what will they think of me? Will they judge me for who I am? 

As cliche as it sounds, it’s really difficult to open up to someone. I’m telling you if someone finally wants to share their concerns, congratulations! You’ve earned their trust, so don’t shut down that opportunity. You’re taking them for granted, and I know how much that hurts. Thankfully, some people around you want to listen and help, so don’t hesitate to reach out. We’re all here trying to find some meaning in our lives, and maybe (just maybe), you can find that meaning in a conversation with someone else.