Just ask the hormones

It's five in the morning,
we've binged the past four nights
and the end has finally come.
The theme music plays
one last time
and I'm crying
fat, rolling tears,
heart in tatters,
despite the fact
that there's been a happy ending.

Exusing myself to the restroom,
breathing
in and
out,
I watch a tear
inch down my face 
leaving a shining trail
in its wake.
I swipe at it
trying
to pull myself together.
I look into the mirror,
startling myself,
laughing aloud
when I see 
what an ugly mess
my face is,
breathing
in 
and out.

Oh my gosh, what happened to you?
Mom chuckles
when she sees my face.

Grinning, I joke,
Ask the hormones.

And we both start cackling,
peals of laughter
bouncing off the walls.
It's a terrible joke,
but it's the best you'll hear
at 5 a.m.

Soon, it's just too much
and all of the tears
I've dammed up
burst free

Every laugh
ending as a sob,
tears streaming down my face,
clutching my stomach,
gasping for breath,
chest tight,
rising and falling,
hands swiping,
unable to keep up
with the downpour.

Are you OK?
Mom asks,
actually concerned.
I attempt to compose myself,
panting,
trying to comprehend,
all these tired, scrambled feelings.

I don't know what's happening, Mom

I wail, wheezing,
starting to laugh,
and cry
all over again.

For a second she just looks,
staring at
her crazy, deranged daughter
laughing and sobbing
like a madman.

I'm not OK,
but I can't stop.
I'm spent
and I don't know
what's happening.
Really.
Just ask the hormones.