Me, I turn my back and angrily brush a warm tear away. As the sounds around me die away, I close my eyes, willing the tears to stop. But emotion and pain do not submit easily, and I was tired of fighting. Soon a flood of damp tears splash down my cheeks and spatter my clothes. I was sobbing now, now that I was truly alone and only the birds and crickets could hear me. I cry agonizingly, bitterly, painfully, as if crying hurts even more than harboring and holding pain inside of me.
Stop. Stop now. Crying has never helped anyone. And it won’t ever help you; nothing can help you now, pound over and over in my head. I try to listen, but it seems as though once I shed that first tear, the rest would not stop.
Something spatters on my head. I glance up and something strikes my cheek. Rain. It batters my upturned face, mixing its pure coolness with my tainted, hot tears.
I breathe deep and try to think as the raindrops thicken. But my mind seems incapable and slow, so instead I close my eyes and simply let the rain wash my face and cleanse my tears.