Sometimes the tears come in torrents. Sometimes one or two just trickle down the face. Most days, like today, its somewhere in the middle. Tears released to free myself from the emotions I have purposely hidden during the day. Private tears for what is becoming a more private grief.
I welcome the release. I have come to understand that to be "okay" for 23 hours of the day I have to let myself go for the remaining one. Or two. Or sometimes more.
But I dread these hours at the same time. The closet tears. The closet emotions. It further isolates me from the rest of the world. Makes me feel alone. Like no one understands or accepts me. The real me. The person who still cries. Still hurts. Still misses.
Still loves....
To those who do not know about this night time ritual, it may almost appear at times as though I am "getting over it." Moving on. Truth of the matter is I don't think I will ever move on. Move forward yes. I'm learning how to do that. But to move on you have to leave certain things behind. These tears prove I'm not ready to do that. I don't think I ever will be....
At the same time, they say the human body is 50-65% water. I've cried a lot of tears over the past months. Some days I wonder if the well will ever run dry. If I will sit down and realize I have no tears left. Or that I don't need the tears any longer.
I look forward to that day.
I dread that day.
And today, in this moment, I know that day may never come.
It's not here today.
And so, before I turn out the light on this day, I cry......
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