Fire and the Wind

I square my shoulders and take a deep breath. I knew this was going to happen someday. I was expecting this, I believed that I was actually ready for this. Then why am I unable to stop the tears? Why does this feel like a blow? Why does it hurt so much?
I leave my room. My sanctuary- a sanctuary that is mocking me now. The walls seemed to be provoking me, laughing at me and my naivete. I go out to the balcony. The chill wind slapped my face cruelly. But that was fine, absolutely. That way, I could just pretend that the tears staining my cheek were due to the cold, cold wind. But why do I cry? Wasn't I prepared for the hurt? Or did I think, even for a moment that things could have turned out any different? If I did, then I was a fool. And I deserve the hurt. The cold wind ceases to blow, and I am left with nothing but my lonely self for company. And the lonesome dog howling into the night.
I wake up in the morning and put on my mask. I talk to people, laugh at their jokes. They think I'm happy and that the sun is shining bright. Someone comes up to me and tells me a joke. I throw my head back and laugh. No one notices the lone tear that slides down my cheek.