Tuesday, August 3, 2010

would you hold back your tears or let them fall?

When people tell you the minute they leave, you'll recall all the precious, jovial moments spent together, they're lying. I learned that the hard way as I followed my parents to the car, my back to the airport's departure gate and my face illuminated by the sunset. There were no words, no memories, no thoughts ― only a black hole of emptiness and loneliness, defied asnothing, deluging my mind. The trees moved faster and faster when I gazed out my car window, and right there, I felt a small tumble, like the whirling clothes in a washing machine, in the pit of my stomach. Every time I took in a short breath, it would swell up to my throat, and tears would begin to form. People tell you, "be strong, don't cry", and once again, they're wrong. Because every time I held back the innocuous drops, it got to my head, and right in the back, I could feel a small, perpetual thump, thump, thump, an amalgamation of headache and heartbeat. However, when I stepped inside the house, heard the buzz of sheer silence, and saw the unused razor in the toothbrush stand, the box of tissues atop my desk, and the slightly misaligned rug in the basement, I cried. My bawling didn't stop, and at that instant, I forgot all our times together, our laughs, our jokes. I remembered nothing. Instead, I desired something which I could have not.


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