It's only so funny how my mood changes within my context, circumstance, environment.
Today, I watched a girl cry.
Face crinkling, tears raining down her face. Tears of hatred, frustrations, tears of pure and concentrated liquid unhappiness ceeping slowly down her soft cheeks, clawing skin, leaving a slimy train.
I didn't wake up in the morning for this, she muttered. Her breathing got heavier, chest heaving, mind heaving, eyes clouded, judgement clouded, no longer thinking. Just... tried not thinking. The more she thought, the harder and faster and heavier the tears flew down.
Why was she crying? Why are you crying, I asked. What's wrong? You can tell me. I can keep secrets. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Look at that flying money wearing a black, starry witches hat! Don't bottle it in. Vent it out. It's okay to cry. Let it out. Here, have a tissue, blow it out.
And when I tried everything, her head turned towards me, and my eyes found hers, a messy, sad, dark abyss.
My head turned higher, and I looked at the sky. The sky was raining.
I looked back at this girl again. Her eyes were dry.
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