Blinded

The wind sweeps into my eyes and the tears come. Seeing out of bathroom windows for a moment, the fog of my tears envelops all. And from this I think, the point of tears is to blind us from seeing our attackers. And while our attackers are not usually a fond sight to us, it is a good idea to keep an eye on them, which is impossible when you cannot see anything. Tears are an escape where we can feel the problem without facing it in the all out honesty and vulnerability of words. Tears are NOT a breaking point, they are the fear before the breaking point, because breaking comes in that horrible, consuming, ringing silence. This is neither good or bad, but at the end tears do not solve much, consider them a rest stop in self pity, a hot bath, a warm hug that will end much sooner than you are ready for. It is still windy, and I'm still walking around blind. And now my mascara is running making caverns of my eyes to hold rivers from the wind. The rivers will dry up in a minute, but the caverns will remain until I clean them up.