You don't know me. My tears fall silently, in the dark. As they run down my face, I can feel their warmth and I try to take some comfort from it. I fail.
Those warm tears can't help me. They are insignificant as either a comfort or a symbol of my grief. They are just an overflow of my pain. They work as a release valve when the feelings move too close to the surface. They are just a means to relieve some of the pressure and weight of unpleasant emotions. They gather in my tear ducts until they come bubbling up and spill over. It's really nothing more than a bodily function. Meaningless.
But there are other tears. The ones that fall from my heart. Unseen tears. Cold tears. Those are the ones with power over me. They fall within me, a constant and steady drip of ice cold water, running down my heart, leaving frozen trails on its journey to my soul.
I used to fight it. Refusing to accept my fate. Seeking out any little piece of happiness I could find to try to warm myself. There had to be something I could do to change things. What had I done to deserve this suffering? Surely there had to be a way. I tried to seek out what was missing within me. I failed.
I can't fight it. The icy crystals formed from my own cold tears will not melt. I can barely move much less fight. I am tired.
You don't know me. But during a time of need in your life, if you look into my eyes, you may recognize me. You may recognize my pain, my grief as a reflection of your own but don't reach out to me. I can't help you. Turn away. Run. Don't let me pass this affliction on to you. I won't chase you. I can't. I am frozen.