i like when my eyes well up until the tears cling absurdly to the inside of my lower lids like they’re afraid to fall. i like to blink, slowly, then. i like teardrops that fall fat and splash somewhere inconvenient.

i like the crying that seems to spring forth from my eyes like in a cartoon—a fountain of tears. This is nearly always accompanied by the contortion of a pained face, sounds of pain too.

Have you ever let out an animal scream?! Not in play, but in grief or fury or a mad wildness. Driving is maybe not when i should have done that, but holy hell. i have known ugly crying, but this was feral, wide like it should have been wailed in a canyon. Maybe screams like these finally came out of me precisely because of the broad sky. i would prefer not to hold them in so long again.

Some tears come gently, streaming around eye creases, cheekbones, nose crevices, to salt the lips or drip off the chin. A softness in reaction to a beautiful scene, something sweetly poignant and deeply felt. i like those cries too.

i like my tears best when i don’t search for a reason. i try to shift my brain away from assessing blame or some kind of fix, onto recognizing the straightforward usefulness of letting myself overflow. The width and breadth of this adventure is no fucking joke. i’m allowed to cry every day for no reason and maybe i don’t even feel sad. You would cry too, if it happened to you.