Burst

This is a series of photographs taken by a contemporary French photographer I admire. I can't get better representations of them, or I would comment on the stunning versatility of the look of these emotions... they range from despair, fear, shock, anger... all exemplified by the very organic act of bursting into tears.
Bursting into tears is something entirely honest. It can't be premeditated or manipulative. It isn't controllable... there's no plug, no brave face, no coping mechanism that can intercept the split second when something deeper than my conscious will decides to erupt from within.
It's embarassing. It's kind of cleansing.
It's a very here-I-am and this is what I feel, no holds barred, action.

Today I was twice told by two people who matter that I've done nothing with my life and am currently accomplishing nothing. Oh, and I'm headed nowhere. Their wording wasn't couched in niceties and was supremely... hurtful.

I burst into tears.

I'm not going to prove or defend myself. I'm just going to cry.