She doesn't cry tears. She cries words

Perhaps it's because she's weary of the tears that have made her eyes sore, exhausted from falling asleep in a flood of them. It has become her nightly ritual—to weep before slumber. She can't seem to rest without tears on her cheeks. And each morning, as she faces the mirror, the remnants of yesterday's sorrow are evident. Her eyes bear the marks of pain, as if bitten by a swarm of despair. Yet, she still manages to smile.

Perhaps the burden she carries is too heavy. Even though she longs to cry to relieve the weight, she finds herself unable to. She may not understand why, or perhaps she does but is in denial. She wants to be strong for her family, to project an image of resilience. She doesn't want to appear as fragile as she feels. She yearns to be a warrior, someone who can battle through anything, yet she forgets that even warriors shed tears when they are wounded.

Perhaps she's simply lost in confusion. All she knows is that she's in pain. Her heart aches with an intensity that's unbearable.

She can't cry. She doesn't cry. Instead, she channels her sorrow into words. As a writer, she pours out her anguish into her writing, hoping to inspire others, even as she remains broken inside.