And sometimes, I have really difficult days.

I can feel it coming on. There is a general emptiness in my body – my limbs feel weightless and there’s a numbness in my gut. It’s hard to think anything at all at first. But when a thought comes, the tears immediately pour out.

These tears that I cry, they’re not regular tears. They’re not the tears that are loud that people can hear. These tears don’t call out for someone to wipe them. They don’t tell me to wipe them. These tears come so easily; there is never just one, but always a stream, steadily flowing down skin that cannot feel them. These tears don’t come from my eyes. They well up deep in my heart and must resolve their determination to be seen. These tears hold tight to the roller coaster of my heart; they grab hold of the un-belted seats and stay steadfastly until they reach the peak of the ascent. They celebrate the thrill of the steep drop into the world, and the height from which they’ve come makes their downhill force unstoppable.

I have no control over these tears. These tears, they take over. And that’s the scariest part. I don’t know why they come or how they come, and I don’t know what to do to stop them.

On these days, I don’t know myself.

But I can’t quiet the thought that maybe this is me. These tears are me. This sadness is me. This emptiness is me. And the only way that these tears can communicate is to overtake me on these days during which I have no defenses.


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