Where Do Tears Come From and Other Rambling Thoughts

…because beginnings aren’t really beginnings, just middles with different names. And everything, simultaneously, comes with a label and blurry edges. Life is millefeuille all the time, folding and hiding and scratching and licking, and if you stop to listen, you can hear change trickle in.

When it rains, why doesn’t the sea level get higher? Where do tears come from and why aren’t we thirsty after we cry? Why does our pain transmogrify into water?

Sometimes, you need to start changing to realise you thought you had an idea of who you were. When you grasp an identity, you hold it tight, you chain it around the words you say and the things you do and the steps you take. You keep in your firm grip, in your pocket, in denial. You decide that this is who you are. As if you come in two-dimensions. We need these labels because if you don’t know who you are, how the hell can you ever know anything else?

I’m wearing a grey t-shirt, the one my sister got me that says TEXAS in brown. This information is irrelevant.

We meet thousands of people in our lifetimes and we forget most of them, maybe we never even got their names, but they’re out there somewhere, with an entire life that has fuck all to do with you. You are everywhere you go. You are the only constant in your life. And every other person you know is exactly the same, except you are not their constant. This boggles my mind. I am the kind of person that uses words like boggle. This boggles my mind also. When did I become this person? Was I always this person? Am I always the same millefeuille and it’s just that I reveal different layers depending on how you cut me?

We meet thousands of people in our lifetimes and they come and go as if you are a revolving door and they are just tourists. Sometimes, someone waltzes through and swings the door extra hard, just for the hell of it, and then continues on his way without even looking back, leaving you going round in circles, dizzy from memory, and this is where I am now.

Isn’t it awful when a stranger messes you up? If you never really had time with them, you can’t even say, Oh but we had some good times. No,it just hurts.

I am lucky. My revolving door is packed, chock-a-block as my mother says, with people who are happy to be dizzy with me. So one person stumbled out… most people stay. And we stick it out together: cramped and cosy, awkward and awesome.

It is 03:05am and I am exhausted. I have no idea what I’ve written, I just want to pour some words onto the page.

Thank you, people who love me, for doing so.

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Published by

Alexia

I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

20 thoughts on “Where Do Tears Come From and Other Rambling Thoughts”

  1. “I am lucky. My revolving door is packed, chock-a-block as my mother says, with people who are happy to be dizzy with me. So one person stumbled out… most people stay. And we stick it out together: cramped and cosy, awkward and awesome.”

    amen girl…
    i love my people that stay. They have rocked my world for years and years now. Yeah, a few are gone… but the ones that matter and love me stay… and that means more than anything else.

  2. “Isn’t it awful when a stranger messes you up? If you never really had time with them, you can’t even say, Oh but we had some good times. No,it just hurts.”

    Yeah. I feel I’ve become really old this year. Weary and old.

  3. I love so many things you have written here.

    “I am lucky. My revolving door is packed, chock-a-block as my mother says, with people who are happy to be dizzy with me. So one person stumbled out… most people stay. And we stick it out together: cramped and cosy, awkward and awesome.”

    Beautiful. We all take for granted the people who stick with us through the craziest or most dull of times, the very same people who can drive us crazy but only because they matter that much to us. It’s always good to stop spinning every once in awhile to see who is still there with you, dizzy, who has been crushed in all the fun, and who simply just left without an effect large enough to stop you from continuing.

  4. Oh, Lexi. How I do love you.

    This was my favorite:

    ‎”We meet thousands of people in our lifetimes and we forget most of them, maybe we never even got their names, but they’re out there somewhere, with an entire life that has f&#k all to do with you. You are everywhere you go. You are the only constant in your life. And every other person you know is exactly the same, except you are not their constant.”

  5. “Sometimes, you need to start changing to realise you thought you had an idea of who you were.”
    -this struck home. Very smart. 🙂

    “and then continues on his way without even looking back”
    -noticed you used “him” 😛

    good stuff.
    you seem to make a lot of sense when you don’t know what you’re writing.

  6. I love the free flow writing you are doing, did you think it would be so well received?

    So many things to say here.

    Tears are the physical manifestation of our emotions;our emotions at meant to be released not kept inside.

    You are the same mille feuille with new layers being added as the old get buried.

    I think we all strive for some constants in our lives, some of us will go to extremes to ensure them. To be a constant in someones life is a big responsibility.

    I am torn over the last bit, I have could say two totally different things. I think I will save them for a letter.

    Don’t be too hard on yourself your or the choices you’ve made.

    1. Thank you, Dave, for loving it and for saying that it’s been well-received… no, I did not expect that!

      Looking forward to what you’re saving for later!

  7. I love you for doing so! this was a beautiful post, and I for one can relate to it. I’ve given up trying to label myself, because just as I think the stickers looking pretty nice, something new blocks the view and I wonder how I ever thought up the label in the first place.

  8. “Am I always the same and reveal different layers depending on how you cut me?” That was very well-said.

    I’m driven crazy by the idea that I’ve met people I don’t remember anymore. At some point I was in their lives, if even for a second, and now I don’t know them at all.

  9. I love the revolving door analogy. It makes me think about how sometimes, people stay that aren’t good for you. People who you should force, kicking and screaming, out the door. But they don’t leave, and you don’t do anything about it. Until it’s too late and they hurt you the way you knew they would. You should have a list at the door, allowing (and keeping) only the right people in.

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