I don't cry because I'm sad . . . I just cry
It's like I have this invisible instrument, cello-like, with deep resonating sounds, buried, hidden in my chest. Right there in the center. And when a string is plucked the sound waves reverberate, the cavity within my chest cannot hold it. . . cannot hold it in. It rises, it climbs, higher and higher, faster and faster. . . and . . . it spills, drips down my cheeks.
And sometimes . . . sometimes it's like this invisible hand reaches in and begins to play, the music expands, grows louder, overwhelms. It rises, creates pools in my eyes that fill to overflowing and roll down my face.
When I was younger, when the pieces that were me were fragmented and broken, scattered. The music came from the outside , the waves of sound would hit me , jar me , and the tears would tumble.
But now, now that the fragmented pieces have been welded together, the vessel whole; the music vibrates from the inside, deep in that hollow where only music can survive.
And what I don't understand is, what is it about me? Why can't I hold it in? Why, o why does it have to spill out, can I not just feel it and keep it . . . safe... That's it! When it spills I feel vulnerable, exposed and very unsafe.
I've had people tell me they wished they could cry like I can. That it would be freeing for them. But they've so trained themselves to hold it in.
I feel like their tears would be more precious. That my tears are so common in occurrence and perhaps others see them a common in meaning. But they are not common, the tears , they come at a cost. And they mean . . . EVERYTHING.
And because they are everything, another piece of me. . . she holds them, open-handed, she let's them be. . . be what they are.
I guess, if I wanted, I could work harder at suppressing them, holding them back, covering them up before they rise. But I resist. I resist because a tender voice tells me that if I did I would lose an essence. It says my tears are needed. . . and that voice, so soft and gentle, the hum of a lullaby . .
. . . makes me cry