the tears. the stupid, stupid tears.
everything is supposed to be healed through water: saltwater, sweat or the ocean.
well, maybe i should run. except i hate running.
maybe i should cry. except the number of times that i have tried to cry these past two weeks, i can count of all my fingers and all my toes.
and those damn tears–they will not come. they want to but my stupid mind will not let them.
this is not fair.
life’s not fair. the wind whispers to me.
just let me cry, i beg. just let me cry.
my chest is shrinking. my ears are ringing, with fear and anger and nerves and sadness and the music that rains down onto the very part of my body that allows me to communicate with the people i love the most. my heart is racing too fast.
i want to scream.
betrayal is running circles around me, forcing me to fold into myself, untop of myself.
get off, i scream. there is no room here for you. the questions have taken all the rooms.
what am i doing?
why is this happening to me?
are they my friends?
why can’t i cry?
when will i cry?
i just want to cry.
maybe i should go to the ocean. it is near enough to this place.
will i find myself there? in the midst of a million sets of tears that have fallen throughout the year? will i?
i do not know.