Author: Danyel Smith

Something to Cry About (Even If It’s Over a Honeybun)

Keep crying and I’ll give you something to cry about. Whatever. I cried anyway. I was that kid. I was that teenager. I am that adult. I tend to cry. I cry when I’m microwaving an Entenmann’s glazed honey bun — it reminds me of high school, of my grandmother being young and mean, of thinking I knew my mom well when I didn’t, of distrusting my stepfather who I now trust with my life, and of my sister who I still shared a room with, and who knew every tiny thing about me. She doesn’t know every tiny thing about me now. I eat my honey bun standing up in front of the microwave, slicing it with the side of the fork. Tongue all sugar-burnt, and calories flourishing, I cry. I wipe my face. I take my ass to the gym. “Every once in a while, everyone needs a ‘good cry’.” But that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that crying for me is as regular as smiling. I don’t reserve tears. Reserve them …