The Idea-smithy

It doesn’t take a lot to make me cry. It doesn’t take anything to make me cry. Because I don’t cry. No matter what, tears don’t happen for me. And yet I used to be a blubberer. No, not a blubberer…but someone whose tears would suddenly well up and just keep flowing silently, incessantly. Then I stopped.

I haven’t cried in years.

I didn’t cry when my uncle succumbed to cancer and my family gave in to the madness called grief.

My eyes haven’t misted over with all the poison-arrows these two have been shooting at me in the past three years.

I didn’t cry for all the men that were in the past year and the heartache that came along with them.
Not that I didn’t feel bad at the time. I did, in an unhealthy, dreary, suicidal way
With the last heartbreak, I ached at the sight of him and the sound of him and the thought of him
But not one single tear did I shed in his name

I’ve been swayed by the high/low of realising my personal and professional dreams, all of which have been happening through last year. But I didn’t even make an acquaintance with the proverbial ‘tears of joy’.

I’ve been losing people, so many of them, so dear to me…willingly pushing them away just because I can’t stand waiting for the axe of seperation to fall. No crying then either.

So many plans made, so much effort and dreams and all of them gone to shambles. I amazed myself at how quickly I jumped on to something bigger and better. Maybe I was just escaping. But I never cried.

But this evening, a thought unbidden rose to my mind.

I don’t remember the last time I felt whole.

And suddenly, sitting in an autorickshaw, neck deep in peak-hour traffic, I was crying.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j6toyTNf-UM]

Torn – Natalie Imbruglia 

I thought I saw a man brought to life
He was warm
He came around
And he was dignified
He showed me what it was to cry

Well you couldn’t be that man I adored
You don’t seem to know
Or seem to care
What your heart is for
I don’t know him anymore

There’s nothin’ where he used to lie
My conversation has run dry
That’s what’s going on
Nothings right
I’m torn

I’m all out of faith
This is how I feel
I’m cold and I am shamed
Lying naked on the floor
Illusion never changed
Into something real
I’m wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn
You’re a little late
I’m already torn

So I guess the fortune tellers right
I should have seen just what was there and not some holy light
But you crawled beneath my veins
And now, I don’t care
I have no luck
I don’t miss it all that much
There’s just so many things
That I can’t touch
I’m torn

There’s nothin’ he used to lie
My inspiration has run dry
That’s what’s going on
Nothing’s right
I’m torn

How appropriately inappropriate.