I just want to cry.
Crying feels like the right thing to do
It just does.
I'm not sure if they would be tears of joy or the sad kind
For a thing that once was or for one that will never be
But all the same I want to cry
Then I think of tomorrow and how my eyes would be red and puffy.
And how nosy Nora will pry till I'm forced to lie again.
I want to cry long slow tears.
The slow free kind that cat-roll down one's cheeks because they are not coerced by events that have occurred but by mere thoughts.
'Mere' makes it sound meager, but it's not.
There isn't much worse than uncertainty I tell you (well there's the lack of options)
But uncertainty is a pig. A big fat pig rolling around in one's mind. Rolling around doing it's haphazard dance because of what could either have been a satisfying meal or one that it knows will constipate it.
But then until the dance ceases, you'll be left to wonder.
And even when I know crying won't solve anything, it at least helps my tear ducts ease the discomfort of being filled to their brims.
Which is something I can't say for my mind
So I'm just going to cry.