She sits in a movie theatre and watches the main character die from the last row from the left most seat a tragic death that seems to shake the entire audience except her. The movie ends and she descends the steps one by one impassive stoic her face is dry. She comes back and sits in her bed She sits in the silence and watches another movie whose screen exists between pages of a book a spine whose binding is flimsy. sniffle sniffle She starts to cry for people she's never met whose faces she has never seen whose parents she has never met whose hands she has never held That's compassion for humanity. Her hands are bloody the skin are her nails is destroyed from stress and agitation. He holds them firmly and says I love you despite your flawed hands. hesitates, backtracks, and recants his words I love you for your flawless hands and your capricious emotions and the way you deal with your feels that your hands display the message receive the clemency. She goes back to the kitchen tea or coffee? glass or mug? pinky or no? Suddenly, she remembers the war Anguish and fury rush back to sting her Her hands are warm and she watches the color slowly disperse. Placidity counters the fury. Sympathy balances the anguish. Her hands are warm, but her heart is worn. Her mind is lethargic She lets it all go imagines it floating away this way that way out of sight, out of mind All of her efforts are spent wasted on impotence and structural barriers She wants to care, but she just can't afford to anymore. - inspired but not really much more aligned with the Daily Prompt
So, what’s crying exactly? Is it just something we do in our spare time, or is there meaning to it? Does it make us stronger, weaker, or is it just something that we do?
Well, I don’t really know.
But it’s 2:30 AM and I just finished “crying” of laughter, and “crying” of happiness. Yet, at the same time, I’ve cried of sadness, cried of sorrow. What can we really take out of such an activity?