earliest memory I have of my childhood is my face in tears. It was the one
thing I carried on through every stage of life…the tears always flowed with
ease. Joy, pain, anger; there were tears. The climax of all emotions gave me
tears and I say that without shame. I loved a man that bore the same “condition”
he cried with such ease that in those moments I saw his soul. Even after the
love was gone, we remain fond of each other because we saw and held each other
in those moments where our souls were frail and open. So the world broke me
down and deceived me. They told me tears were for the weak. And for a while I believed
them. So I hid them; I hid my soul. but my jaded soul could not heal under
these conditions. With every tear I earned healing. I resolved rejection, loss,
guilt, betrayal…I found a release from it all. and every tear that dried up the
cracks in my heart, in my soul; were somewhat filled. In those moments I found
the strength and wisdom to make things..well better. I laugh as hard as I cry,
that is my motto. Of course like any other venture (time, emotion, effort) some
of those tears were wasted; on things that couldn’t be fixed, on people that
would leave regardless, on a world that was incessantly giving rise to evil. But
I shed them…no regret.
I am stuck. Capable of the tears, just not for my own cause. I must bury msyelf
into the pain and triumph of others; ficitional or real, to shed a tear or two.
Is it age that has robbed me of my unconventional therapy? Is it apathy? Is it
them? I am without answers. I find solace in the words. Those; I still have and
can freely bring forth to the world…for now!