When everyone had left me that day I was angry, but I understood that they had a life other than being around me. I was so angry that I could've burst into tears. Tears meant weakness though. And weakness was something I didn't have. It was something any normal person would have, but I was never normal. I'm a crushed thief that doesn't have a family. So, tears were not an option.
When all of them had come back for me, I was neither crying nor angry. I figured they had left me and there was no reason to cry over it. Even if somewhere inside me there was a little girl trapped wanting to cry on someone's shoulder. But there wasn't a shoulder just a bench and the world.
When I was shot during a con I was neither happy nor angry, I was furious. I wasn't crying though, because crying meant weakness and I never had that. And even if I was laying on the couch while the team surrounded me I wouldn't cry they had saved me and I would be fine.
When they decided to leave me again, I knew I wouldn't cry. It had happened before and it was easier. The world seemed so much simpler than it did the first time they had left. I screamed for them to come back, but I never once cried.
When I heard they had all moved on, I had screamed as loud as my lungs could take, and waited for the echo of it to die down. Still at the same time I never cried. It occurred to me that I cared about their lives more than mine, and decided they should be happy.
So, writing this seems like a burden has been lifted off my chest. I wish they could hear how I've been doing, but they won't because they had left and they won't come back. Another part of me wishes that I will never hear their voices again, but I know that's a lie. I should be crying right now, but I'm not. I care far too much about their lives to sit in sorrow over mine.