At first they cared. They'd ask.
Then the waterfall from my eyes was flowing all year long.
It had turned to a bore.
A nuisance.
I'd now let the tears drop.
I wouldn't even try to stop it anymore.
I'd let them fall as I stayed emotionless.
Ironic isn't it.
Tears falling but being emotionless.
At the dinner table, in the car, at school, behind a screen, no one ever noticed.
They say letting all the tears fall down in the shower helps.
It doesn't.
It makes it worse.
You can see the tears that once people told you were precious, falling down and blending in with the water.
It blends in. It doesn't matter anymore.
It wouldn't blend in if it was red.
Red blood against the water.
It would be noticed.
But for how long. Till it's done falling?
I seem like an attention whore. Maybe I am.
I don't want everyone's attention honestly, just one.
Just one person.
One person who's focus would be me.
One person who'd never leave.
One person who wouldn't sway.
One person who wouldn't break my trust.
One person who could stop these tears from falling.
Just one.
One person.
I guess it's too much to ask.
I won't ask anymore, I won't look for that one person anymore.
Every time I thought I'd grasped hold of that one person, they'd slip away again.
It's always my fault isn't it.
It's the same cycle every time I try.
I'm better off like this.
Each cycle just makes me worse.
Soon enough I'll be damaged beyond repair. No one can fix me then.
Can anyone even fix me now.
I'll just have to fix myself.
Put on a smile now, don't show them what you're like, they may pity you, but they'll spite you for having nothing better to do.
Because everyone else has bigger problems.
Mine are as good as a dot compared to what real problems are.
They don't matter.
Stare into the screen a little longer, escape for a while, avoid your thoughts. Distract yourself. Those are the solutions my so called friends have said.
But it all piles up.
Everything forms an endless stack in my pandora mind.
And it all comes crashing down at once.
And hence it starts again.
What is it called again?
Ah crying.
Crying sounds childish.
It can't be used to describe the pain I feel, can it?
It's too crude a word.
Isn't it.
Don't I matter more.
Can't these tears falling have more value than that word.
Crying.
It has too.
Right?
It has too.
If not for myself, the pain, the burning through each tear, it has to mean more.
Shouldn't it.
It must.
Please.
