What tears are made of

"And for the first time, heaven seemed insane for taking you away."  ~ Tear, Smashing Pumpkins

I tend to dissect every thought and feeling of mine, trying to find some pattern or a plausible explanation for who I am and for who I want to be, as an activity of Anatomy. Recently, I discovered the material my tears are made of, separating it into several parts.

Most of my tear is made of melancholy. I miss the past I never had, the situations I never lived and the people I never met. It's a sweet (but painful) type of sadness that comes when I think about the childhood I didn't have or the family that it was taken from me. In my tear, there are memories that I created: a warm home, people having a nice talk in the TV room, friends playing with me, dogs barking in the backyard - some structure or bond that make a life worth living. But it's all a product of my imagination and sooner or later I remember it's just a dream: the first piece of my tear is right there, coming.

There is another part of my tear, which is made of loneliness. Oh, that part is almost a blood drop. When the tear comes to this phase, I can't help but run away. It's the moment when I want to leave everybody and everything behind, embracing my destiny: I have this belief that I am build up to live completely alone and forgotten.

I, also, have other ingredients in the composition of the tear: guilt, sorrow, self destruction (particularly hurtful, this one), abandonment. They all too salty for me to bear.

They all exploding through my chest.

I don't want to be unfair with Life, so, I ought to mention a fact that everybody knows at some point of their lives: there are joy tears too. Nevertheless, I have my golden tears, newly discovered. They are made of pure Sun, shining directly into the depths of my broken heart, washing away the dust I have inside. Even though newborn, they are powerful and meaningful. 

If you give me just one reason to continue living on this messy world - and you gave me, oh, I'm sure you did - I'll hold that gift pretty close to my chest and I'll never let it go. Your reward for betting that I can be whole again is my golden tear. They are precious and rare: be careful with them.

Be careful with me.

>> Post relacionado: Tiny little things (em português)