Tears

How many tears can one person cry? Are they infinite? Does a person only have so many to give in regards to another person? There’s probably some scientific answer out there. Some scientist who has measured somebody's tears in a beaker and put a mathematical equation to it. But there are different types of tears. Tears for pain, tears for happiness, tears for memories, and tears for old wounds reopened. Millions of reasons for a person to cry really.

Tears etch down her cheeks, engraving themselves upon her flesh, yet no one will see the paths they leave behind once they dry. These are not the silent tears that leak out and onto the pillow case, nor are they the ones that mix with the water in the shower. No, these are the last tears she plans to ever cry for the man she loved. They are loud and profound, heart wrenching, gut twisting, agonizing pain cascading over her worn skin, dripping in rivelets from her chin onto his serene face.

How many times has she cried for this man? How many times has she made excuses for him, just to be hurt again by him? Logically she knew how it would play out. She knew that he would not go quietly, kindly. Call it naivety, call it foolish. A bleeding heart. The only heart that bled was hers and unfortunately it was by her own hand.

Excuses form in her mind as she stares blankly at him. Excuses that she has said so many times before that she almost believes they are true. Wishing they were true. If they were, would the tears vanish? Would the ache go away? Would this truely be the last time she shed them for him?

She thought that if she gave him her heart then he would never again be heartless. Careless. Miserable. All she has to show for it are the tracks carved upon her flesh that nobody else can see. But, oh, how she can feel them. The constriction of her chest, the tightness of her throat, always the building pressure that she subdues until she’s alone. And when she’s alone the rivers flow. How has she not been drowned? For sure there have been enough tears for him to submerge her. Why is she still here and he is gone?

Mourning and grieving are what is expected. You mourn the loss of the relationship, you grieve the absence of the person, supposedly then you move on. Continue to live. What of the woman who has given every piece of herself? When there’s nothing left of her? Many men carry many pieces of her and don’t know it. The ones who know exactly what they did and what they took from her, will never acknowledge it either. But this man? This man watched with indifference as he asked for every piece he carried. Asked greedily for more and more, knowing she would never say no.

Who is to blame for these tears? The man who had no compassion or the woman who had too much? Is it a wonder that one led a miserable existence while the other held onto hope? Again you may want to call her any number of names, but in her defense a world without compassion is a sad place to be. She felt too much, she felt the things the man was not willing to feel. Even when she vowed to turn cold and treat him (and others) the way they treated her, she couldn’t. She found quickly that there was no magic switch to turn off her empathy, nor did she want to. Tears aplenty came and went, and still she refused to give up on the broken man. Willingly giving him everything she had.

Reality hit her full force and she did finally see what she excused for too long. Yet, she still gave and still cried. She also fled. Never could let him go though. When the internal damage is a constant reminder, it becomes difficult to shut out the cause of it all. Or that’s how she saw it.

Until this moment, the moment when he would ask for nothing more from her. At least not aloud. He will haunt her the rest of her days. Popping into her mind as he always had, but now it’ll be memories, which honestly makes it all the harder. How many more tears will she cry for the ungrateful, the hurtful, hate filled man? How much grief can she carry upon her shoulders before she collapses?

She’s been tempted on more than one occasion of desperation to collect the tears cried for and because of this man, surely that would heal her. She knows for a fact they did do something of that nature thousands of years ago. Definitely not express honor and devotion as those ancient Romans had, but as a record of the sorrows she endured. Would that enable her to rebuild herself? He went with the path of ‘out of sight out of mind.’ That would never work for her, he carries too much of her within him. Will the pieces return to her now that he is truly gone or are they lost forever? Her essence floating on the breeze, in the ether, buried beneath the ground?

Perhaps every tear she has cried will beget new tears and she’ll find herself floating away into oblivion, never to return to the pain and harshness of ‘nice guys never win.’ Hopefully for her sake they don’t wash away the happy moments they had shared. Hopefully she can look back on those times and not let loose more tears.

But today, today she will cry and she will promise herself that these are the last pieces of herself she will give him. For all the asking he did, she only ever asked for a handful of things. Things that would have shown she was worth loving. Not proof, never proof because is it possible to prove your love to someone? No, but confirmation. Confirmation that she wasn’t the only one doling out pieces of themselves in the name of love. Maybe tomorrow she will find herself in a place, with a person who doesn’t ask and doesn’t leave her wondering. A girl can dream, right?