I cry alot I think.
I can't help it.
When I feel anything too strongly, it leaks out of my eyes.
Too happy? Cry.
Too sad? Cry.
Too angry or frustrated? Cry.
I reached a point in my life, where I actually ran out of tears.
I couldn't cry anymore, they just wouldn't come out.
I would feel the lump in my throat, and scrunch my face up as tight as it would go,
but no tears would fall.
I felt so broken.
I started shoving things down. Deep deep down.
I could feel them building up.
I ignored it.
I was so numb.
I thought my tears would never find me again.
My shell too hard.
My walls too high.
I let nobody in.
Not even myself.
It definitly damaged me.
I don't remember when they came back, but they did.
I think it's when I let someone in.
Momentarily, I gave them the key to my deepest feelings.
I didn't ask for it back.
They started letting themselves in; in to my secret garden.
They helped me clean it up.
Took all the overgrown branches, picked all the weeds.
Slowly but surely, my feelings came back.
My tears came home, and flowers began to bloom.
They didn't make me happy, but they gave me the tools,
and showed me how to use them.
I've let them keep that key, because sometimes I lose mine,
or it gets jammed in the lock.
They gave me a key to their garden too.
It's a beautiful thing.
The damage I did is still there, but I've turned it into something positive.
Something to learn from.
A small shrine, to where I've come from; those moments of despair.