I have this ridiculous notion that if my tears don't fall, I'm not crying. I would suck in, hold in, reign in the tears. My eyes would grow water and glassy, but I refuse, absolutely to cry. Well used to. So imagine my indignation when one night, I woke up, sat up and started crying. Silently. The stubborn tears made it's trail down my cheeks. I was too tired, too sad, too angry at myself to wipe them away.
I thought to myself, why do bad things happen to good people. My answer? I drew up blank.
Trust me. I have a lot of answers. Answers that seem to satisfy some, but it definitely doesn't seem absolute enough to me, not whole enough. I don't understand. Or maybe I don't want to.
Anyways, as if on cue, the thunder rolled and streaks of lightning illuminate the sky outside. Talk about being dramatic. It sounds almost absurd, even to myself, but somehow I felt somewhat comforted. The rain that pelted my windows and the concrete pavements soothed my turmoil. As if the heavens were crying alongside with me.
After that episode, I realized, crying isn't a sign of weakness. It's strength. It means you're strong enough to show the world that you're not afraid to cry. Strong enough to know that, it's just weakness leaving the body. In liquid form of course. A wise woman once said, "Eyes are just a reflection of what the tears can bring."
Well it was said by me. But how true it is.
No comments:
Post a Comment