February 11, 2003 / 6:52pm

and I saw you crying

there are a lot of things I donít want to see. Like war beginning, like baby carriages falling through staircases, like creepy stalkers, like blood, like goreÖ

but thereís something, just something, utterly, inexplicably, scary about seeing you cry.

I knew I shouldnít have left when I did. I knew I shouldnít haveÖ damnit, why the hell did I trust your word when you said you were going to be fine?

Broke you. people. People broke you, and the worst part is, I knew, and I did nothing else. I just.. knew. Does that make me any different from them? not much, but then again, hey.

I came back, and I saw you there, crying. Oh goddamnit, I saw you crying.

Cheeks flushed and all, clutching a towel to your face, I was wondering how you saw me come through the darkness, when you usually didnít pay much attention, not most of the time, anyway. And your eyes, they werenít really all too clear, you know?

And it saddened me, to confess. Did it actually mean you could only see me coming through the darkness clearly whenever you saw me through your tears?

Could you only see clearly through your teary eyes?

Now Iím fucking scared.

I would never understand why it hurt that bad, but I know, I know, I never understand most things. I donít understand a lot of things, and usually, thatís fine by me.

What I couldnít figure out isÖ is why I canít stand the thought of not comprehending now.

This. You. The tears in your eyes.

I want to understand. But really, why should you let me in anyway?

I usually donít mind, being the outsider looking in, and all. I usually donít care, Ďcause usually, I couldnít care less about the people who keep me out, anyway.

But this is you. and standing out here, looking in, unable to do anything but just.. just freaking stand there and look Ė just looking, justÖ goddamnedÖ looking! I donít think I could do this.

The nagging feeling of doing something is excruciaaating.

But I know. I know I couldnít do things the way I want them done, I couldnít fix things the way I want them fixed. I know, I have this certain WonderWoman syndrome, and fuck, itís getting the better of me.

But this is getting the better of you, too. And people who break other people donít deserve better. They just freaking donít.

And they certainly donít deserve your tears.